Into the Maelstrom
by AlexKirko
Summary: Exhilarated by their victory against the Sith Empire, Revan and Tabook Nashdar (the Exile) start messing with Force Powers only to be blasted into the pre-Phantom Menace Star Wars movie universe. Will the two Jedi that rebuilt the Jedi Order from scratch in their world have to destroy it in this one to get back home? Whatever help the Jedi prayed for, it wasn't this. DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes

This fic is an attempt at an old dream of mine. I absolutely love the two Knights of the Old Republic games. To me, they are the best thing to come out of the entire Star Wars universe. Revan is great, the Exile is great, overall writing is great, and the gameplay is pretty sweet too. The joy of playing a Light Jedi Consular frying crowds of enemies with Force Storms and then going back home to your Jedi girlfriend should be experienced, not talked about.

The prequel movies… Those had a lot of potential that was mostly wasted, in my opinion. Still, the universe and the characters are the greatest playground a fanfic writer can imagine. There is just so much excellent stuff! The races, the planets, the Jedi, the Force.

So let's try and marry KotOR and the cinematic universe, shall we? There are a number of Revan/SW movies fics already out there, but none of them scratch that particular itch I have. This one will be about humor, reasonable faithfulness to canon, and smart characters who are powerful enough to be fun but not powerful enough to simply breeze through everything.

I have an outline for the full story and the complete plot of the first three chapters, so I'll see how this goes. Depending on the feedback, this fic will either sizzle out there or continue to glorious completion.

I don't own Star Wars, Disney does. Let's hope they will treat the franchise with the care it deserves. Meanwhile, I'm not making any money off this.

Timeline, deviations from canon, and other notes are at the end of the chapter.

 **Forced into the Maelstrom**

The Force on Kashyyk was wild and potent, which is why Dooku often came here. He liked to think of himself as a man in his prime, and could do so as long as he didn't start counting how many years he had spent in self-professed top shape. Yet there was nobody else on the Council willing to do anything about the Republic or the trap the Order had got itself into, so he had no business admitting he was getting old.

This trip, however, wasn't an excuse to feel the Living Force of Kashyyk fill his bones and revitalize him. He'd talked to his old Master about it, and while most of the Councilors didn't want to admit it, he and Yoda knew that the Dark Side was growing in power. The Force had become difficult to navigate during meditation, and it was likely that soon they wouldn't be able to glean any insights into the future from it at all.

Lower Shadowlands were exactly the way he remembered them. As they made their way toward the ancient Jedi shrine, Dooku didn't turn his lightsaber off even once.

"How many of those damn Kinrath are here?" asked Larka, liberally spraying the area with heavy blaster bolts. His enthusiasm was such that Dooku had to deflect a few when they came too close for his liking.

The bulky Mandalorian was a mercenary that had been travelling with Dooku for a while helping the Jedi Master when he wasn't annoying him. He had tried to get rid of the bloodthirsty bastard a few times, but Larka was good, and Yoda wouldn't let him go on missions without backup. Some might have called it pride, but Dooku rarely teamed up with other Jedi, as they often were more hindrance than help. While soldiers and mercenaries weren't Force-sensitive, they were arguably better partners for someone who was used to being the only one in the melee.

"An army," said Dooku, cutting a poisonous beast in two, splashing green guts all over Larka's Mandalorian armor.

"Then how the hell do we beat them?"

"We kill them until the hive realizes it is better to just let us be. We aren't the only predators down here, and with every Kinrath we kill, their colony becomes more vulnerable."

Dooku couldn't blame Larka for the occasional blaster bolt fired in his direction, because the Shadowlands were aptly named. Stinking steam rose from the wet ground making it difficult for them to breathe, and the foliage above let almost no light through. Luminescent poisonous plants and dwarf ferns that fed on chemical reactions in the soil covered the ground. Little else grew around the giant wroshyr roots that tore through the ground like the fingers of a cannibal trying to get to the good parts of a corpse. Maps were only marginally useful when a root could sprout from the ground and block a passage, or an enormous beast of one kind of another could burrow through a patch of ground, creating a highway through the jungle.

Dooku fought with eyes closed and almost exclusively relied on the defensive Soresu form, only switching to mobile Ataru when the ground became too treacherous for a style that depended on sure footing.

In a last ditch effort to destroy the interlopers, the Kinrath hive threw ten of its warriors at them. A giant arachnid tried to drop on him from a branch above, but Dooku had sensed it in the Force and rolled forward while switching off his lightsaber. He felt Larka throw something and suddenly he could see light from behind his eyelids. Must have been a glow stick.

"Die, you creepy bastards!"

Larka was about as bad with words as he was brilliant with a gun. A Kinrath launched itself at the Mandalorian and he turned it into mincemeat, but at the same time six of its friends decided to make a meal out of Dooku. He switched to Ataru, cursing how in shape he was. He was far too fit to jump around like a monkey.

He sidestepped a venomous stinger to the left, cut the appendage off, and then pushed himself off the beast with a Force push, evading three more stabs. One of the animals didn't have the time to stop and pierced its brethren's hide forcing a screech from it. Dooku, landed on top of a Kinrath and plunged the lightsaber into its brain, but it managed to scratch him in its death throes. He felt a temptation to curse, but that wasn't something a Jedi would do.

The other Kinrath backed off, waiting for the poison to take effect. He could focus and counteract the effects of the toxin using the Force, but Dooku was afraid that one of the Beasts would lunge itself at him while he was distracted. Still, it was turning out to be less and less of a choice as the scratch on his left biceps started to burn as if it had been made with molten steel and not a stinger.

"Hey, Jedi! Remember that time on Nar Shaddaa?" asked Larka.

"Not that, Larka!"

Dooku barely had the time to switch back to Soresu, when his ally stopped firing at the Kinrath (after killing two more) and turned his blaster at Dooku. A stream of bolts flew at him, and the Master had to root himself completely to be able to deflect everything at the Kinrath. It was a technique he himself had developed while he and Larka had been pinned down by a criminal gang on Nar Shaddaa, but damn him if he didn't hate this trick. What it required was one man with a heavy blaster and good aim and one master of Soresu—the most defensive of lightsaber forms developed thousands of years ago, back when blasters had first gained prominence. The problem with heavy blasters was that they normally were too bulky to quickly get rid of multiple targets spread out over a large area. Moving the gun took effort and it needed to be steadied properly before firing it in order to avoid the shots being spread all over the place. Typically, such weapons would either be used in bottlenecks, or the shooter would be forced to gun down one enemy, turn, gun down another, turn, and so on. Dooku had found a way around that.

Unfortunately, it required him standing in the middle of a circle of enemies and being continuously fired upon. Fortunately, Larka was a damn good shot and all of the bolts came from one direction in a steady narrow stream. For someone of Dooku's experience it was child's play to simply redirect the bolt into Kinrath's faces. Or it would be, had he not been poisoned a minute before. When it was done, Dooku fell on his knees, wishing he could have thrust the lightsaber into the ground to support his weight. Instead he turned the weapon off, clipped it to his belt and sat on his heels, calming his breath. Larka stayed silent. Dooku had taught him that interrupting a Jedi when he needed to rebalance himself wasn't a good idea. Jedi were obligated to always appear serene, except when in meditation that was aimed toward attaining that same serenity.

Dooku forced his body to break down the poison and got up. They walked on in silence.

There were minor fights with various jungle inhabitants as the two of them continued, but they handled those easily. Soon, the old shrine appeared. Dooku walked up to the ancient stone building the color of ash and ran his fingers across its rough surface, like one greets a long-lost family member or lover. Here on the surface Kashyyk, surrounded by millions of tons of Living Force and standing on top of a Nexus, he could feel the Force as clearly as in the days before the veil started to solidify across the galaxy. Once again, he was reminded that civilization wasn't good company for spiritual growth and wondered whether it was a sensible idea to have the Jedi Temple on Coruscant in the first place.

"Guard me," he ordered and pushed open the ancient doors.

Like a Jedi of ages past he made the same pilgrimage they had ventured on. His soft shoes stepped into the grooves they had worn in the stone; a lone lamp switched on, flickering like the last desperate firefly trying to push back the dark. There were no cushions, no waterfalls, no manicured trees—even withered ones. There was, however, an old harsh slab of stone he sat on. And then there was the Force.

Dooku lowered his mind into a deep trance with the practice of someone who spent a major part of his life in meditation, in this state of pure will that had little to do either with wakefulness or dreams. Down and out he went, expanding his awareness to the forest around him and starting to sense the ooze of darkness that was clear to him now that he was surrounded by life on all sides. But meditating on the nature of the dark veil wasn't why he had come here.

Instead, Dooku went inwards. He thought he heard blaster fire from outside but didn't stop. The heavy doors were closed firmly shut behind him, and nothing had wandered into the shrine since he had last visited more than a decade ago. Nothing would get in now either.

Instead of going broader Dooku concentrated his attention into one point and went deeper until he could feel the Force around him. Minutes might have passed or hours—it was difficult to determine.

"Please, we need help," he sent out into the calm vortex of energy that had a consciousness of its own according to some and was nothing but a silent unavoidable companion to life according to others.

He sent plea after plea, question after question. Then there was a barely perceptible lilt around his consciousness, and then the vortex turned inside out, throwing a wave of angry red at him and expelling him from meditation.

"Dooku! The Kinrath are back! Get your enlightened ass here!"

He would meditate on what had happened later. For now, Dooku got up, switched his lightsaber on with the familiar snap-hiss, and went out to help his ally. After all, he would need Larka to safely get back to the surface later.

###

The war lasted a hundred years.

Both sides gave their all; both pushed the knowledge of the Force beyond even their own imagination; both had brilliant tacticians; both knew how to corrupt and subvert the other. In the end, it came down to who was better and more sincere at manipulation. Duplicity could only take you so far—it was the honest desire to help that finally determined the future.

"Gods, that feels good," Vehlah Mir said, trying to melt into the table she was lying on.

Revan nodded and put a bit more power into his fingers.

"Mmm… This is why I like you Jedi. You know how to relax."

The former Sith Lord only grinned and moved his hands to the sides of her neck, gingerly working out the small kinks before using his considerable weight to break through the tension of her muscles. Vehlah moaned.

"Yeah, that's something I don't understand," Revan said. "Isn't the Dark Side supposed to be all about following your desires? Why is there no pampering? When I ran things for the Dark here in the Republic, there was pampering."

The woman tried to shrug, but he gently stopped her from moving. She was lovely and limber, although stressed. She also helped manage the Imperial Library.

"Sshh, Miss Mirr. Don't move or we'll never get this done. You do want to know what comes next, don't you?"

His guest stopped struggling and once more lost herself to the pleasure.

Revan respected the Emperor as an adversary. The ancient being had unimaginable power and a formidable military, which they had been able to hold back during the opening years of the conflict only because of his access to the Foundry. Oh, he'd told the Council he had destroyed it, and they even went to check, but Revan wasn't the best strategist in the Order's history for nothing. The Foundry could produce anything, so he made a couple giant hyperdrives and hid it in a nebula. It was due to years of non-stop droid and military vessel production and the aid of Tab, who often preferred to be called the Exile, that the war didn't engulf the entire Republic when it started.

Still, the Sith came, expecting to carpet-bomb Coruscant and cripple the Republic's political structure before grabbing a part of the Rim and starting to push into the disorganized Republic. The Emperor had sacrificed a significant part of his fleet for this maneuver and even Revan and Tab's combined abilities weren't enough to foretell the time of the attack exactly, so they knew the Senate would be lost. Which was why they had been grooming replacements for all the major senators for years.

After the opening move Revan and Tab revealed themselves, gained military support easily thanks to their reputation, and deadlocked the Sith forces in the Outer Rim worlds. Regardless, what the Emperor had done was impressive, because the Sith controlled mere dozens of inhabited planets compared to thousands in the republic, but every citizen of those worlds was a warrior, trained to be ruthless in combat. They were organized and strong in the Force, and even Revan couldn't magically turn the apathetic Republic into something as efficient. Thankfully, the Republic was much larger, so they were able to hold the Empire back.

However, despite his talent for strategy and governance, there was one thing the Emperor completely sucked at, and that was keeping his people happy. Which brought him back to the Togruta in front of him. She had been captured as a child and brought up as a Sith Assassin (a rare case of non-human Sith), but all of that was irrelevant. By that point Revan made his way down to her legs and his job as a masseuse was getting more difficult because of all of the squirming.

"I mean, not that I mind—you are beautiful—but don't the Sith have sex?" he asked, honestly curious for once. The woman that he had to hold down was absolutely gorgeous if orange skin and lekku were your thing. He? Revan was very cosmopolitan in the regard. She shouldn't have had any problems, and Revan knew from all the infiltration work in the Empire that the Sith were much less uptight about sex than the former Jedi Order. Although the preferences they developed were often… unusual.

Mirr opened her eyes and looked at him with dilated pupils before laughing, the rest of tension draining out of her. He could feel the black sludge of the Dark slipping out of her, leaving behind the far more playful and tolerable red lightning. Aggressive and assertive but not hateful.

"Have you even seen a Sith lust chamber, Revan?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember anything there that doesn't have spikes? Or chains with spikes? We are supposed to cultivate anger, fear, and pain at all times. If you are a Sith, you never surrender to pleasure."

Mirr seemed genuinely amused now. She turned on her back and stretched. She was naked of course. Fit as all Sith were, it made for an enticing display.

"Point," Revan said. "By the way, do you have any idea what your Emperor was thinking when he decided that sending a female Togruta to me as an infiltrator would be a good idea?"

Vehlah pouted, grabbed Revan's wrist and pulled him on top of her.

"I'm sure the great Revan can talk and work at the same time. You promised me I'd never want to go back after all, and I still do want to go back. A little."

"Liar. You know that you will still be able to see me whenever I'm free after you join us, right?"

"Yes, but this way is much hotter."

###

Meanwhile, somewhere else a Sith Lord was trying to convert one Atton Rand to the Dark Side. It wasn't going so well.

"You will submit!" Darth something screamed, sending a pathetic stream of Force Lightning at Rand, making him twitch a bit. "I will break you, pretentious Jedi scum!"

Rand looked at the nameless human in front of him and rolled his eyes. There was a reason he was always sent on this type of missions, that being his complete mastery of Force Dissociation—a handy technique created by Tab after a particularly serious hangover. It allowed the user to separate themselves mentally from their body, using it as a puppet and not feeling any pain or pleasure.

Currently Atton was mentally making adjustments to the beef stew recipe—he was going to cook it for everyone this week. The lightning barely registered.

"Why don't you break?!" the Sith screamed into his face. Atton could swear the spittle was Force-charged because some of it managed to get up his nose. Rand sneezed. Ew. He knew he had to wrap this up quickly, or Mira would come and get upset. Torturing someone's friend in front of somebody tended to get them upset even if the torture was this inadequate. If Atton didn't turn this around, the Sith would probably be turned into a kebab.

"No offence, kid—" said Atton.

"I'm thirty-five!"

"Good for you, kid. But seriously, your conversion technique sucks. You are supposed to alternate between pleasure and pain—not that it would work—and look for pressure points. All you are doing is badgering me with the same stuff over and over and over."

The human thought about it and then nodded.

"We have slaves," he said. "Women, men, children—whatever you like."

Atton resisted the urge to bang his head on the wall he was chained to, then reconsidered, and succumbed to the temptation. Dull thuds echoed around the room.

"Hey, are you all right?" the Sith asked hesitantly, as if doubting his prisoner's presence of mind. "Or sane?"

The Jedi couldn't handle it anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of torturer are you? Who offers children to a Jedi? Why would I need a sex-slave? We Jedi have done so much for the Republic, I can just land on Ryloth and have a ten-day orgy with very enthusiastic Twi'lek women!" he said, paused, and continued. "Not that many men are less enthusiastic—just not my thing."

The Sith stared at him for a few moments before sighing and unchaining Atton.

"So, Twi'leks… Tell me about them."

Happy that he would now make it to dinner, Atton didn't have any qualms about sharing some of his more randy experiences that involved the galaxy's favorite sex industry race.

"So this one time we were smuggling a shipment of military-grade lubricants, a crate of gizka, and a platoon of Twi'lek commandos through a Sith blockade…"

###

The Emperor looked at the crowd of Jedi gathered before him who had somehow bypassed all of his security. In front of him a man stood in Sith Lord robes, playing with his braids.

"What is the meaning of this? How did you get in here?" the leader of the Dark asked.

"Backdoor in the library," the one with the braids answered. "Pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Tab."

"Where are all my guards?"

"Ah, I see the Dark Side initiation didn't come with the common courtesy manual. Very well, the cook slipped a bit of hormones into their food. They are crying somewhere, sharing their previously suppressed feelings. Turns out they have a lot of those."

The Emperor stared unflinchingly into the distance, only now getting the terrible feeling that he had missed something in his plans. He should have really suspected something when the Dark Council left to do a surprise inspection of the Sith training facilities. More and more apprentices were startingto go beyond anger, fear, and hate to draw power from the Force, and the Council had been curious.

Standing up and summoning a Force whirlwind to buffet away his attackers, the Emperor thought that he could have really used five to twenty powerful Force practitioners right now. The wall of Force slammed into the enemy Jedi lifting them off the ground, but they didn't seem deterred. Everyone and their mother started flaring their energy to break his hold and a few took out disruptors and started firing at him while still being in the air.

Now, disruptor weapons are the galactic equivalent of fighting a rhinoceros with a supersonic titanium toothpick. If you hit, you are bound to do some damage, but only so much. However, it is their ability to bypass any shielding and the fact that they can't be deflected with a lightsaber that make them as dangerous as they are. Because of how much pain a disruptor causes an impact, that type of weapon had long since been banned the galaxy over.

The pain also made it one of the best guns you could fire at a concentrating Jedi. A pulse from a short-haired human female hit the Emperor in the shoulder and the briefest moment of hesitation allowed the enemy leader with the name of a pet launch a counter to his whilrlwind that put all his enemies back at the ground. The enemy Guardians launched themselves into Force Leaps toward him just as some of his guard started to pour into the palace—obviously, one cook couldn't poison them all…

This was when the Force Storm started. He had heard the rumors, of course. Of the Light Side Jedi who had made the Dark Side his bitch and reached the levels of Mastery in the offensive powers that was beyond even the legendary Sith of old. He had discounted them as the usual drivel spewing from the mouths of those inferior to him. That had been a mistake.

An area fifty feet in diameter exploded in surges of lightning, writhing against each other like demented snakes and sounding like a box of firecrackers thrown into an inferno. Incidentally, it was also blocking the main entrance to the hall and instantly cooking the apprentices that had rushed in. Even from a hundred feet he could feel their nerve pathways being fused with the flesh and the Force itself being torn from their bodies becoming food for the storm.

Absent-mindedly, the Emperor tossed two Guardians away from him with a Force wave, breaking a few bones and hopefully killing at least one of them, although the Zabrak Jedi definitely looked too tough to suffer much damage. As the enemies went out of the fight, he moved to erect an energy barrier around himself only to see another man come out of Force concealment mid-leap from behind the Zabrak. That was supposed to be impossible, but that word didn't really apply to his worst nightmare.

The man who had been operating in the Empire space for more than fifty years. The man who had cost him more Sith than anybody else. The worst thing was, he didn't even kill the Emperor's people—he turned them. Not even to the Light—the Emperor knew how to fight that. The tell-tale mask wasn't even necessary to identify the worst that the Republic had ever produced—Revan.

There was a snap-hiss of the double-bladed rich-gold lightsaber as the man twirled toward him, dodging a Force Push in the air. Just as the Emperor moved to grab his own saber to block, he felt the signs of a Kill power being directed at him. Despite Tab's reputation, it took the Sith only a moment to throw off the effects but that was enough for Revan to close the rest of the distance.

There was a swish in the air and the Emperor's body fell on its knees, the head rolling five feet away.

###

They were symbolically separated into two sides, although at this point nobody would have considered the Republic and the Empire at war. Well, except the lawyers on both sides, but everyone hated lawyers.

Nar Shaddaa had been chosen as the place to finalize the final peace agreements after the century-long war. The spokesman for the Dark Council was the one to start—an old woman with grey hair and disturbingly pale eyes that reminded Tab of his old master.

"We stand here today to officially recognize the Republic as being worthy of continued existence. Back when the war started, our enemy was weak, it's only redeeming quality being their size and economic power. Today they have rid themselves of most of the corruption and turned into a federation for civilian matters while being centralized in military ones," she looked at her counterpart, the Supreme Chancellor. "We have watched these changes. Now that the shadow of the former Emperor—may Force Lightning take him—is no longer over us, we think we have more to learn from living alongside the Republic than from fighting them."

The Chancellor nodded and stepped forward.

"In turn we acknowledge that the Empire is just another state and not the evil we thought it was. We would like to think the Jedi order and the Maelstrom Jedi in particular," he said, nodding at Revan and Tab who stood to the side. "Without their sacrifices and willingness to bridge the gap between our peoples, who knows what damage this war could have done to both sides. Things being what they are, most fighting had been limited to combatants and droids, and there will be no reparations."

A dark cloud passed over them and the light from Nar Shaddaa's star reached down to shine between the drab buildings. A rare sight. Tab turned his head and winked at Mira who blushed in return. He then smiled at Revan—his oldest friend.

They had won.

###

The Ebon Hawk was a mess. Sometime during the third hour of the party Mission and Visas decided to have a competition in pole dancing and it all went downhill from there.

HK-47 and G0-T0 stood in a corner (G0-T0 hovered, actually), looking at the bacchanalia.

"Open Disgust: Meatbags."

"Revolting."

The two had been with everyone from the start, and their circuits told them they should feel satisfied that the Emperor had finally been defeated, but the sight of Atton and Mira exchanging saliva in the corner combined with the amount of alcohol bottles thrown around and the fact that Tab had taken to chasing girls and giving them small shocks, eliciting giggles… It was too much. It was enough to make non-organics long for being able to vomit.

"I miss Kreia," said the Handmaiden, plopping down near them.

"Reluctant Agreement: Despite being a meatbag, she was tolerable. Barely," said HK-47.

Revan staggered out from the portside living quarters, poured himself a glass of something that gave off smoke, and gulped it down. Handmaiden raised an eyebrow.

"Bastilla," he said, by the way of explaining. "Thought she had to prove to me she is the best. I can hardly walk."

Both droids decided enough was enough and powered down. Handmaiden got up.

"I'll go and put Mission and Visas to bed before they decide to have some other competition, Master Revan," she said, frowning. "Last time we needed to calm them down with tranquilizers."

Revan nodded absent-mindedly and poured himself another drink when Tab plopped down next to him, his hair standing on end.

"Ionize," he explained. "You just had to teach everyone Ionize."

Revan shrugged, noted that Tab had an empty glass in his hand and poured him some of the smoking liquid.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" he asked. Tab raised an eyebrow, and Revan clarified. "Turning the Order into this, I mean."

Tab shook his head, making his braids whip around. He was pretty drunk.

"You forgot what the Order had been before our changes? How they refused to fight the Mandalorians and you had to become a Darth? How they wiped your memories? How they sent me into exile? How they tried to kill me? Screw that."

Revan smiled faintly and nodded.

"You have to admit it though, this is a insane."

"We knew it would be like this when we created the Maelstrom Oath. Plus, the rebuilt temple of Dantooine is a lot mellower. Although I wonder how things will turn out now that they can be in open contact with the Sith," Tab said, chuckling. He clapped his thigh and stood up. "Now, I'm feeling inspired! Want to have another go at that Holocron?"

The former Dark Lord thought about it for a moment before nodding and picking up his mask from a nearby table. He had left it there when Bastilla had abducted him for what she endearingly called 'cuddly time'. Apparently, suppressing all urges until well into your twenties and then tasting the Dark Side gave a person one hell of a libido and quite a few fetishes. Good to know that it wasn't just him.

He force-pushed from the cushion without even noticing and both of them went to the infirmary which doubled as a holocron-viewing room. There was very little need for medical equipment on a ship that was full of Jedi as skilled in the healing arts as the two of them were. Revan was no slouch, but he had been a Guardian before his Fall, and even all those years later most of his abilities focused on lightsaber combat and neutral Force Powers. Tab, however, was a Councilor through and through, wielding both the Light and the Dark with equal mastery—even if the Dark took more effort to corral into working for someone of his morals. The point was that if something didn't kill a person outright, Tab could instantly stabilize them and heal them to full health in a few hours. This was why the infirmary had only the bare necessities, and one wall housed more than a hundred receptacles for both Jedi and Sith holocrons they had gathered during their travels all over the galaxy and didn't want to place into the Order headquarters library for one reason or another.

Revan levitated the box they'd been working on and jostled it into life with a touch of the Force. After a short flicker of white light, an image appeared.

"My students."

"Hello, Kreia."

The image chuckled without mirth, the sound resembling dry leaves, blown along sand.

"You still insist on using that wretched name, Exile. You should call me Traya now that the mask has been stripped from me."

Tab had discovered the holocron in the ship's cargo hold shortly after his fight on Malachor V where he had put the two final Sith Lords to rest. One of those had turned out to be his own Master, but even after she had died in his hands, he was still unable to think of her as a Sith.

"You keep saying that, but I don't see it." Tab smiled. "I've known you a lot longer as a Grey Jedi. In addition, your Force Ghost isn't red, so…"

So large was her desire to continue teaching the dangers of straying too far one way or the other in the Force, that Kreia didn't pass on. Luckily, she wasn't bound to the planet where the energies of the Dark Side would have no doubt corrupted her sooner or later. Instead, she manifested near Tab from time to time, lecturing her apprentice even after her death.

"We'd like to work on the technique," Revan said.

Kreia had been one of his Masters back in the day, but he wasn't to her what Tab was. Which was good for Kreia, he supposed, because Tab knew that Revan didn't have his patience. He would have sent her right to her afterlife. Or Bastilla or somebody else would, because the old witch had the habit of appearing during… private moments.

The hologram pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "You are drunk, Revan. You are drunk and asking about a Force technique theorized to open a portal into another dimension." She groaned. "Why, why did Tabook befriend you? Teaching you one time was more than enough for me."

"I'm not drunk," Revan said. "You know what my tolerance to alcohol is."

The hologram glared at him for a few moments before hanging her head.

"I see there is no dissuading you," she said. "Just remember that whatever path the Force opens, there is always a reason why it does so. And what is good for the Force isn't always good for us Force users."

"Yes, mom, I remember Force is an Ironic Bitch 101," Revan said. "Now let's go over the theory and we'll try again. After all we did just solve this galaxy's most pressing problem, so me and Tab can finally focus on research into the Force—there is so much we don't know yet. And the partying. We'll be focusing on the partying too."

"Your immaturity is the only thing in the universe without limits, Revan. Let us go over the theory of travel between dimensions one more time and then you can get that deplorable Sith holocron out."

They spent two hours working on the fundamentals behind the technique with Kreia and some ancient Sith scholar whose holocron was so damaged that the man didn't even remember his own name anymore. While the Exile fiddled with the stash of crystals they had brought for this purpose, Revan wrote down the mechanics of the experiment they were about to do. The theory the nameless Sith had come up with ages ago was that the Force was not only the unifying principle behind everything in their own galaxy, but that it also joined all Life everywhere. That there was one Force, even if there were many realities, and this is why Jedi and Sith would sometimes feel unexplained jolts in it when seemingly nothing out of the ordinary happened around them.

While his ideas had some merit, as evidenced by the Sith spending resources to preserve his knowledge, the theory had never been properly tested. Early experiments proved that there was an unexplained echo that manifested when channeling the Force into objects that conducted it especially well, but the problem was that the echo was hollow, like something was missing.

Revan and Tab believed that what the ancient Sith hadn't considered was the fact that there were two sides to the Force, and both would be needed for something as profound as this.

"Ready?" Revan asked Tab, having finished writing.

Tab stretched a little, shook his hands, then put them in front of him, palms forward and fingers spread.

"Yes. Start slow."

Revan held the biggest crystal they could find in the crystal cave on Dantooine. He concentrated, and Tab, standing opposite his friend, saw the cerulean waves with crimson embers start to spread through Revan's eyes. Even among the Maelstrom Jedi the former Sith Lord was special—the only one capable of channeling the Light and the Dark at the same time.

Of course, Tab had tricks of his own. The Jedi Master closed his eyes and let himself go deeper into his subconscious, navigating among the hundreds of bonds that went from him to people all around him. Those of the Ebon Hawk crew were the thickest and easily recognizable, but there were also others, connecting to people he could barely remember. A Wound in the Force they called him. Some called him a vampire, latching on others with forced bonds. Even all those years after he had become all that he was, people were still afraid. As long as they did nothing stupid, he didn't do anything about them.

As Revan said, if they didn't give you some capitalized title, then you haven't done anything worthy with your life. He easily found Revan, a beacon among all his bonds. The Exile slowed his breathing, focusing on the movement of air in his nostrils slowing down and on the sensations that passed through the bond with his friend. He could see through Revan's eyes, feel the power flowing into the crystal he held. It began to glow brighter, throwing shadows on the walls. In a corner of Revan's vision, Tab could see himself sitting on the floor, meditating. He went deeper.

The light wavered, trying to break apart into different aspects of the Force, but Tab didn't permit that. He rebalanced the Light and the Dark in what Revan was supplying and forced his own will upon the energies, making them stay together. While Revan was the core of the technique, Tab provided power and control that had allowed him to master Dark powers in the past without falling from the Light.

He could hear a voice.

"Please, we need help— I need to find some way— If the Jedi won't take a stand against the Republic's corruption—"

He could feel Revan's exultation. The thoughts they were hearing—and he recognized them as thoughts now—weren't from their galaxy or their time. Here, no one had accused the Jedi of passivity in decades. Satisfied with the results, Tab started to pull back when he felt Revan pour even more power into the stone and also levitating three more crystals in front of him.

No, no, no, Tab thought, struggling to keep the crystals from exploding into their faces.

With how deep Revan was in his own trance, their small victory must have felt easy to him, while in fact it had already been a strain on Tab's abilities. With four crystals, sweat started pouring down the Jedi Master's forehead.

The voices came again, this time with an image. A vision.

A dark blanket, crawling across the galaxy that looked almost like theirs, but not quite. Someone who might have been Vandar Tokare's elder brother meditating (they still hadn't learned the species of the diminutive green master).

"The years too many lived have I, yet challenges too few faced I have. The darkness push back we must, yet unclear is the way."

Tab could feel Revan's pang of irritation at the being that looked so similar to the one that had robbed him of his memories. Suddenly, the green imp opened his eyes in the vision, jumped up into an Ataru stance and activated his lightsaber.

"Show yourself you will!"

The connection cut and went to a small boy, maybe eight or nine, looking as a Toydarian threatened a woman who showed a strong resemblance to the boy. There was no irritation in Revan this time, because he recognized customary slave disciplining for what it was, but hate rolled of the boy even through dimensions.

The image shifted again, and they saw a man slightly past his prime on the bottom level of Kashyyk, meditating at an ancient Jedi shrine. The voice was the same they had heard the time before.

"An agent of change is needed to heal the Republic. If only we had an external enemy—"

It all melded into a rainbow of images then, jumping from one Force sensitive to the next—a kaleidoscope of people and places. Tab could barely contain the power Revan was pumping into the connection.

A metal finger touched him on the shoulder and his concentration faltered.

Tab was ejected from the trance and back into his own body. What happened next went in slow mention, perhaps as an aftereffect of the technique. The four crystals now orbiting himself and Revan crackled and then cracked, releasing waves of light from rapidly spreading cracks.

"Shields!" commanded Revan.

Tab didn't even think before obeying; after decades of facing combat together following each other's orders came naturally. He would never know what would have happened had he tried to contain the crystals instead of wrapping himself and his friend in the strongest bubbles of Force he could conjure up—enough to stop tank-mounted blasters.

The stones shattered, releasing interweaving tendrils of blue and red into the tiny medical room, filling it with tentacles of Force, swirling and merging with each other. It took them no more than a second to morph into a whirlpool of pure power that, as any respectable whirlpool would, sucked both of them into it. There was a brief sensation of being squeezed into a tiny tube, a flash of light, and then only a sensation of falling.

In the now empty room, HK-47 was left crumpled by a wall.

###

Dooku felt a nudge from the Force for the first time in years. It was a small thing, something that happened often when he was a youth, but lately such guidance had become scarce to the point when only Master Yoda could reliably glimpse future paths more than several months ahead, and even his old master needed to be deep in meditation in order to do so.

Dooku wasn't in meditation, in fact he was playing holo-chess against the captain of the diplomatic vessel he had been assigned for his current mission. He had had his share of meditating on Kashyyk. Not it seemed to him like something had been angry of him circumventing the veil, if only for a while, because getting away from that shrine hadn't been easy. All the teeth, claws, spikes…

Dooku's hand froze over his rook, and he frowned. There was something… a web or a lattice… a map. Yes, a map, but something was wrong.

"Captain, could you take us through Route 1452?"

The captain was human too, a man by the name of Harak Tok. They had been on assignments before, and he had been ferrying Jedi all over the galaxy for the past twenty years.

"It will mean another two days of travel," he said.

"Yes, I know. But there is something there. Like a cry for help or an unexpected path."

The man nodded and relayed the orders to their navigator. Dooku returned to the game.

He couldn't explain it in words, but it felt as if a blade punched a hole through the veil that had been clouding the senses of Jedi all the galaxy over. An explosion of light, both serene and angry, and it happened near his position too. Not following up on that when only yesterday he had been praying for some sort of sign on Kashyyk would be foolish.

Dooku was many things but foolish wasn't one of them.

 **End of Chapter Notes**

That had more exposition than I would have preferred. Alas, just a guy with a keyboard here, not the second coming of Ernest Hemingway.

I didn't want to bloat the foreword at the beginning of this Prologue, but boy do I have things to say about the Star Wars universe and what I hope this fic can become. My previous main fic, Eye of the Sword (set in the Fate/Stay Night universe), is almost done, so I'm looking for a new large project to work on—this is one of those ideas.

About Star Wars. It is one of my favorite fantasy universes. Although many might disagree, the Force is basically magic in my opinion, and it is all things Jedi and Sith plus the multitude of species and cultures that are the main appeal of the universe for me, not the technology stuff. Plus, you know, some of the best writing ever in the history of entertainment was gifted to us by BioWare in Knights of the Old Republic 1 and 2.

That being said (sad? Go, horrible puns!), I'm not a Star Wars fanatic. I've watched the original trilogy and the Phantom Menace, found out I was allergic to it and then skimmed through the Clone Wars and Revenge of the Sith. I've played both KotOR games several times and read maybe two books. As such, my knowledge of the universe is limited, so I plan to heavily rely on wiki and just go off-canon whenever it suits my purposes. If I make any major mistakes in the timeline or something, please point it out. Otherwise remember that the main purpose of this fic is to throw Revan and the Exile into the cinematic universe and to enjoy the ensuing chaos. I plan to focus on character building, romance, combat, force powers, philosophical debates, and so on. Going super-deep into history and geography isn't in the works.

Now, what is canon here? Light-side KotOR 1 and 2 are canon game wise. For those of you who didn't play the games this means that our protagonists are two ridiculously powerful Jedi both of whom saved the Republic and both of whom are of rather low opinion of the traditional Jedi code (no attachments and all that crap). They do, however, get nerfed when going into the cinematic universe, primarily because in KotOR they are way more powerful than anything in the movies combat-wise.

The Old Republic (MMO game) never happened, as far as this fic is concerned. First of all, it doesn't work in this story, and second, it is a bottle of foul stool-water writing-wise. Very much quantity at the price of quality. The Sith vs. Republic war that canonically takes place more than 300 years after Revan's uprising starts some fifteen years after it in this fic and lasts until the start of this story when Good Guys Win™. Also, the Exile is male. I had played the game as a Light Side male Consular that chugged Force Storms around and strangled people to death and I'm not about to give it up, because some poor chap had to shoehorn a predictably heterosexual romantic tension between the Exile and Revan ('To me she was . . . more,' Revan says). Blegh.

Now about the movies. We will start some way before the events of Phantom Menace and I will try to keep true to the characters by re-watching some stuff and looking up the wiki, but there will be changes in the plot from the get-go. Honestly, I don't see this going beyond the Clone Wars timeline-wise and I'll try to introduce as many changes as I can without overcommitting. To be honest, I'm not a fan of writing done by Gearge Lucas in the prequels, because it's overall sloppy and far too focused on CoolPowerz™ and Angst.

As I've mentioned this is an experiment, so your feedback might be the difference between me cancelling this story in a few chapters and finishing it. I'm especially interested in stuff like whether you'd like more exposition and world-building, more romantic stuff, more combat with CoolPowerz™, more Jar-Jar… Although if it's Jar-Jar, something is not right.

If you have ideas for this story, don't hesitate to PM me. A fresh perspective often helps.

Stay shiny.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes

Hello, everyone. The Prologue got a warm reception, so let's see how you like this one.

The ghost of Yoda reminds me to say that Star Wars I own not, and that illusion money is (also, death and pants fall into this category—kudos to you if you get the reference).

Please enjoy. Full notes at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 2

The Force was faint. Tab hadn't felt so isolated from the world since before Paragus station. His old mentor Kreia had found him then, and helped him heal and surpass the Jedi he had been during the Mandalorian War. Now he felt stronger than when he had woken up in that bacta tank years before, but it wasn't as much of an improvement as he would have liked.

"Not again," said Revan from somewhere nearby.

Tab opened his eyes. It was so dark he could barely make out shapes of some sort of dense, stout trees above them. Wind blew, bringing with it an unfamiliar sour-sweet scent. The Jedi Master recognized neither the plant life nor the odor. No surprise, really. There were thousands of habitable worlds in the galaxy.

Tab stood up and banged his head on a low-hanging branch. "Ow," he said.

"Articulate," said Revan, getting up carefully and checking for immediate danger. Then he looked at himself, prompting Tab to do the same. "Oh, come on! I just looted those robes and had them adjusted to fit."

Both of them looked as if they had gone through a rocket exhaust at supersonic speed: robes, brows, hair—everything was singed.

Tab said, "Revan, you just had to push it, like you always do, and now we are lost, and our robes will take some serious work, and my neural amplifying circlet has shorted out, and—" He had been checking himself for damage, and his hands finally made it to his waist where his lightsaber was. "No, no, no…"

With a slight quiver, Tab raised his double-bladed lightsaber to his eyes. It was a work of art. Wroshyr wood, durasteel and silver bands, sapphire inlays looping their way around the handle making a cerulean double helix. It still looked fine on the outside but to his somewhat recovered senses it felt wrong. Tab let go of the handle and levitated the weapon in front of him, noticing how this simplest exercise in Force strained his abilities. Frowning, he carefully unclipped a latch on the inside of the weapon with telekinesis and pressed a tiny button on the outside. A beautiful arrangement of inner components was supposed to be exposed. What he saw instead was a smoking battery, a shattered lens, and an emitter that was broken in three places. The color crystal and the enhancing lightsaber crystals were fine, but that was about it. He felt something uncoil inside him, like a groggy poisonous snake waking up. He had put days of calibration into that lightsaber, and now it was gone. He would have to build everything from scratch in addition to finding their way back from wherever they had ended up. Rage started to boil under the armor of the Light Side, and Tab felt the hunger for somebody else's pain rise up from his gut and burn black-red in his heart.

"Calm down, Tabook," said Revan, and the use of his full name snapped him out of it. "You were about to start glowing red there, old friend."

Tab looked at his hands and then at the destroyed lightsaber in front of him. Sure, it was a setback, but it wasn't like lightsaber components were impossible to manufacture or find. The difficulty of creating a lightsaber lay in attunement which required the Force, not in obtaining the materials. The crystals were the only truly irreplaceable part, and they were whole—he felt the Force echoing off them.

"Something isn't right," he said. "I shouldn't have reacted like a Sith child who had his favorite torture set broken."

"No shit," answered Revan. "I feel like that time the Council murdered me and implanted the personality of a two-bit smuggler into my brain. Those were the days."

"Revan, be serious for a minute. Everything feels muted somehow…"

His friend snorted. "Sorry, but an absurd amount of irony is the only way I deal with situations like this. You should have heard me when Malak took Bastilla. I didn't stop spewing sarcastic remarks until I opened his first eye with my lightsa—"

"There is a Force technique in the area," Tab said, not really listening. "Something making it more difficult to reach out with the Light to see the consequences of our actions." He frowned, trying to go deeper, but quickly gave up. "I can't see more. It's like I'm on Paragus all over again, with barely any connection to the Force." Tab turned his attention inside, feeling for his reserves. "Oh, this is not good."

Revan was examining his own lightsaber. Like Tab's, it was double-bladed, but instead of the Councilor's warm wood and bright metals and gems, this one was matte black with a silver band separating the grips for two hands. The inside of the weapon was as banged up as Tab's. Hearing his partner's comment, Revan looked up sharply. He said, "Tab, when you say 'this is not good', it usually means 'we are about to crash from a thousand feet into a Mandalorian platoon'."

"This is worse. My reserves are still here, Revan, as is my connection to the Force. The problem is that almost everything is going into the Force Bond network to support the regeneration technique."

Revan had always been quick on the uptake, so it came as no surprise to Tab that his eyes widened instantly, and the somewhat older man covered his face with both hands. "Fuck. So we managed it. We left our galaxy."

Tab discarded all his emotions into the Force. It was a combat technique created to help maintain objectivity during combat, but this definitely counted as an emergency. "Seems so," he said, his tone now eerily calm. "That is the problem with Feedback-based continuous regeneration: the more distance between all of us, the more juice it takes from the foci. That is, us."

Revan looked into the trees. Tab followed the direction of his gaze but couldn't see or hear anything. Revan said, "Might be imagining things. Anyway, no wonder I feel like a Rancor vomited all over my Force sense. Everything we have is siphoned into keeping the regeneration going." His head jerked toward the trees, he fell into an Echani stance and ordered, "Heads up!"

A large shadow leaped at them from a tree branch above, but both Jedi jumped away avoiding the swing of two head-sized paws, and Revan even managed to land a kick on their attacker. The beast whined in confusion, and the two of them had time to spring back together and stand shoulder to shoulder. Tab could feel Revan beside him, firmly rooted in the ground, yet perfectly relaxed. His friend kept his left leg in front, his fists in front of his face, and his weight was evenly distributed. Tab was weaker and less agile, so he went for a loose stance that superficially resembled Ataru. Its aim, however, was to keep him from getting hit through rapid dodges rather than aggressively pressuring his opponent as Jedi using Ataru usually did. Tab thought he saw a light reflect off the animal's hide. It glinted like metal.

"Damn it, it's one of those planets," Revan said. "Bait and switch!"

Tab would have preferred to simply calm down the great cat-like creature they were fighting, but that particular trick required him to be calm himself, and the Councilor was still rattled from discovering what the two of them had got themselves into. He unclipped a short vibroblade he kept in his left sleeve and moved forward instead. He noticed that the blade didn't vibrate. The predator immediately focused its gleaming green eyes on him, ignoring Revan getting out his own two daggers. The visibility was poor, with moonlight barely penetrating the canopy above, and Tab had to use his now unreliable Force sense to avoid tripping.

As the fight progressed, he got more and more frustrated. He and Revan, the two Jedi who had brought down a Galactic Empire having nothing but a smuggler's vessel, a bunch of misfits, and an overpowered construction space-station called the Foundry (okay, the last one was a major factor in their eventual victory) had been fighting some oversized feline for three minutes. They had killed Rancors faster without using a lightsaber. Letting Revan handle the beast for a few seconds, Tab focused on mentally separating the river of Force that was siphoned through him and into the dimension gap from the trickle he still could control. He had been right, this was about what his students had been able to call up right after becoming Jedi.

"Shock and stomp," he commanded, dashing to the right of the feline and calling his irritation to the surface.

The trick to using the Dark Side without getting the unfashionable yellow irises, veiny skin, and pale hair lay not only in having an ungodly amount of power and control but also in being able to separate yourself form the emotions the use of your powers would ordinarily evoke. There was happiness to be found in causing pain with lightning, satisfaction in choking idiots to death, almost sexual relief in draining the life force of your enemies… Using those abilities was like managing an addiction for any Jedi of the Maelstrom Order he and Revan had founded. Revan was an exception though, as he was with most things.

The giant cat snapped at him, sensing a weaker prey, and he let the anger flow into the most basic of Dark Force Powers. A tingling, almost playful sensation ran from down his arms and to his fingers and then exploded in a shower of blue lightning that hit the animal in the face, cooking its eyes. Tab didn't have to worry about feeling good while doing this, because he had to drop to the ground immediately and roll away from the now rampaging blind beast.

Before the animal could reorient itself, Revan picked up a boulder with the Force, visibly straining, and dropped it on the cat, breaking its spine. Angry growls were reduced to faint whines, and he walked up to it and stuck a dagger into an eye.

"Fuck. That reminds me of every jungle we have visited ever," Revan said. "I mean would it be too much to expect a welcome once? Grateful natives bringing us gifts of their people? No, it is always giant lizard this, hungry cannibals that…"

He kicked the cat's corpse and turned to Tab who sat down on a log to get a breath. "That stone lifting thing took almost all I had. How hard was the lightning?"

"Like I was making it by beating two pieces of quartz against each other really fast," Tab answered.

Revan joined him on the log and started playing with the cylinder of his now useless lightsaber. Because it didn't look like he was about to speak, Tab took it upon himself to state the obvious. "We have two problems. The first one is that we are about as strong and perceptive as drugged kittens right now," he said, and Revan nodded. "The other one is that even if we get back the power, it will be damn hard to find our way back with this dark distortion I'm sensing everywhere. It's like it is seeping into space itself."

Revan slapped his left thigh and rose stowing away his former lightsaber and unsheathing the daggers again. Tab couldn't see much in the darkness, but his friend felt determined through their bond.

"First we find a ship," said Revan. "Then we build lightsabers. Then we find Jedi or, failing that, Force-sensitive people. Then we kill whoever is making foresight difficult. Then we go home," Tab felt him grin through their Bond. "Not like we haven't done it before. If all else fails, our friends on the other side might find a way to tear a hole here if we give them enough time."

"The technique relied on our unique qualities," Tab stated.

"I know, but if Bastilla and Visas team up, they'll find a way. It might involve throwing Nar Shaddaa into a star though."

Tab couldn't tell whether Revan was joking and didn't want to ask. "Alright. I think I sensed somebody sentient on this rock a while back. Let's get to high ground."

It took them an hour to find a rocky hill to climb, and by that time night started to fade into morning. It was good to see footholds in the few places where they found it easier to hoist themselves up instead of searching for a path they could follow on foot. Finally, they reached the top and took a look at the forest below them.

The sky was tinged with pink on one side, and tentative light pulled the tops of the trees out of darkness. For a moment, Tab thought their golden leaves were a trick of the light, but he soon realized that was just the way things were here. Every plant was some shade between blood-red and pale gold. Every mile or so, what looked like a giant purple elm grew a hundred feet above the other trees, cradling them in its shadow and whispering something to them as its branches swayed in the gentle wind.

"Wow," said Tab.

"Eloquent," noted Revan. "But I agree: this place is beautiful. Alive and strong in the Force." Then his reverent expression settled into his business mask. "Any sentient should stick out like a Gamorrean during a Senate hearing. Let's get to work."

He then sat with his legs crossed and prepared to meditate. Following him, Tab chuckled. "If Bastilla could see you now, actually doing reconnaissance through the Force."

"You know I try to enforce that stupid stereotype about Guardians being less suitable for this sort of thing. Gives me time to chill while a Sentinel or whoever looks ahead."

Tab let the mirth guide him gently into the Force. Both he and Revan broke the mold when it came to Force users, but much of their accomplishments weren't because Revan was a former SIth and the original Maelstrom Jedi, or because Tab was a Wound in the Force. It was because the Jedi Order had consciously forced itself into the confines of their prejudices, and the Sith went all over the place with the abilities they developed. An open mind and a lot of willpower had shown them that all three paths a Jedi could pursue led to becoming powerful, and it was only the focus of that power that changed between Guardian, Sentinel, and Councilor. Revan could enhance his physical abilities to ridiculous levels, Tab could fry a small Mandalorian army under the right circumstances, and Visas or Atton could track a Wookee on Kashyyk from across half the planet. And most of those things were possible because of training, not because of some inborn talent.

The Force followed his lead, and he started to feel the plants and the animal life slowly waking up all around them. The trees had no minds, but they exuded serenity as the first light rays of the emerging day tickled their leaves. He could feel how these leaves changed, some sort of substance flowing to the surface. Curious, Tab thought, everything was gold and red only during the night and turned green during the day. But planet exploration wasn't why he had sunk this deep into a trance. What Tab lacked in power right now he more than compensated for in skill and experience. On a feral planet like this, all one had to do to find sentient life was search for jealousy, gluttony, and depression—things sentients took to levels impossible for animals.

He opened his eyes and said, "We are in luck. There is a smuggler's base about an hour's jog away to the east."

Revan didn't answer him for half a minute, but Tab could feel him extracting himself out of a trance, so Tab simply waited and repeated what he had said when the other Jedi finally woke up.

"There is always a smuggler's base as long as the planet is uninhabited, and there is atmosphere," said Revan and chuckled. "It isn't true, of course, but it sure sounds so. How many times did we get miles deep into an abandoned ruin somewhere in the ass crack of the Outer Rim only to find a pirate's hideout there?"

Tab nodded and said, "Too many. Lugging out dozens of broken slaves got old the first time. Those aren't pirates though, just smugglers. I sensed a lot of chaos but little inclination to hurt others."

"Good."

Revan killed most slavers when he met them, and many pirates dabbled in slavery. As far as he was concerned, any Code could go up a Hutt's butt if it stopped him from ridding the galaxy of the scum that kidnapped people from backwards planets for sale. Some slavers escaped Revan's wrath, but those were half-legitimate businessmen dealing with Ryloth—the only planet in the galaxy that possessed no industry and no resources. Just breeding facilities producing ample-chested women and strong men for the rest of the universe to enjoy. Ryloth was also the only place where there was a decent chance that getting sold into slavery to some other world was more likely to improve the child's life compared to what awaited them on the homeworld, but said improvement wasn't much.

Now that Tab was properly centered again, no animals bothered the two Jedi as they made their way through the jungle that slowly flowed form shades of red into shades of green. Evolution was an insane thing at times, and the strangest traits led to species' survival all over the galaxy. Sometimes those traits simply didn't get in the way of survival and were dominant in the gene pool, and so the plants, animals, and other living creatures developed along bizarre paths without any apparent reason. This kaleidoscope of a planet wasn't the strangest they had seen. Kashyyk firmly held that position with the kind of variety of wildlife even Wookies weren't able to catalogue.

They trekked through the jungle in silence, each occupied with his own emotions and thoughts. With the bond between them, much was understood without the need to speak, and actual words could be transmitted with a slight application of Force. Tab and Revan talked with each other out loud more as a sign of respect for each other's privacy than because of real need.

Eventually the two of them climbed over a ridge and lay on their stomachs, surveying the basin below.

Men, women, and creatures of indeterminate sex scurried around the carcass of a large freighter, like ants stripping meat off a bantha corpse. Dozens of smaller vessels were around the larger ship, and everybody looked to be in a hurry to unload everything from the freighter as quickly as possible. There were hundreds of sentients of all shapes and sizes around. The two Jedi crawled back out of sight.

"I don't recognize any of the ship models," Revan said with a frown. "I mean, I recognize the ship class and the technology and could probably guess the inner layout, but I don't recognize the models themselves. Not a single one."

Tab sighed and rubbed his ear in thought. "This proves it then," he said. "This really is a parallel galaxy. Same races, generally same technology, but the details are different." He gestured vaguely toward the basin. "It doesn't change the fact that there are our twenty ways off this rock."

Revan nodded and said, "We'll need disguises."

"How will we get them?"

"Everybody needs to take a piss once in a while, and they will be stripping that freighter for hours. Let's get closer and wait."

"A stealth field generator would be mighty useful right now."

There was no better race to be for infiltration than human. Were they Rodian, Gamorrean, Twi'lek, or anything else, there would be places they couldn't get to without doing some serious legwork. Try to gain some respect in a Hutt brothel as a Twi'lek woman. Try to pass yourself as a mercenary while being Thorian—the most pacifist crowd in the galaxy. And there had been a good reason for the Council replacing Revan's personality with that of a smuggler all those years ago. Humans made excellent smugglers precisely because their race had spread everywhere

They also had many weaknesses that being a Jedi pretty much nullified if you knew what you were doing. Can't hold your breath for more than two minutes? The Force. Can't contort yourself into a cube of flesh? The Force. Need to sleep between five and ten hours a day? The Force. Have problems with impulse control? The Force. All of those techniques had drawbacks, of course, best exemplified by how the Jedi Order had pretty much set up itself for mass Fall when they started to rely on the combat clarity trick of releasing your emotions into the Force to deal with everyday impulses and temptations. But if a Jedi kept temporary solutions temporary, they could be more androids than people when needed.

Revan and Tab lay two hours the bushes under the trees at the edge of the caldera. The smuggler ship they had picked was half a mile away, but first they needed to get some clothes. There was fifteen minutes between the two smugglers, each took one chop to the neck from Revan, and soon there were two unconscious men lying unconscious only in their undergarments.

"How much time until they finish with the freighter, you reckon?" asked Revan.

"It's impossible to tell without seeing the kind of load they are relieving it off. I think the smugglers' ships will be full before they haul everything out of there."

"Right." Revan took out his knife.

Tab moved between him and the unconscious smugglers and asked, "What are you doing?"

Revan rolled his eyes. "Will you please move?" he said. "I'll cut up their coveralls and make ropes and gags. Should last long enough."

He didn't want to play Devil's advocate, but Tab still asked, "And what if they slither out before we are off this rock?"

"We could dislocate their shoulders."

"No. Even if they wake up and get out of bonds in time, they still need to find us."

By this point in their conversation the two smugglers were almost naked, with most of their clothes turned into improvised restraints. Tab knew there was a chance they wouldn't be found until everyone left the planet, or that some predator would stumble onto this prepared meal. It felt good to have power over people again, and he let the feeling flow through him. He was long past the point where power was something to fear. They left the men to nap in dirt.

The guy they had been directed to by one of the smugglers was an armory locker of a man, his face creased and worn like a mummified Hutt's ass. Sunlight reflected off the bald patch in the middle of his head.

The smuggler, "So you boys unhappy with your current boss? He not paying you enough or what?"

"He bought a Gamorrean slave recently," said Tab.

The man said, "Good slaves, Gamorreans. Strong, hard to kill."

"Yes, but he got it for sex," said Tab. "And a male one too, not that it matters."

Revan said, "And the captain, he didn't bother with soundproofing, right? 'Too expensive', he said. Well, it might be, but if I ever see a Gamorrean in a frilly dress again or hear one when—"

"Okay, okay, I got the picture," said the smuggler. "Any more and I will be begging for brain bleach. The name is Hax, I'm the captain of this fine ship. Her name is Dawn."

"So, Hax, we heard you needed people."

The smuggler squinted and shook his head. "We are almost done loading," he said.

"Yeah, but your light frigate can carry at least fifteen and you don't have even ten," said Revan pointing to the ship. "A lot of overcrowded ships around you, all we're saying. Might be some of those folks want to nab what's yours after you are finished hauling the boxes—save themselves the trouble."

Hax took a long look at the two of them and took a step in their direction. "If you are so smart, how do I know you aren't here to shoot us in the back when we get attacked from the front?"

At least the smugglers never changed, Tab thought. There was honor among thieves, yes, but there was also such a thing as asking for trouble. And not having the crew to defend your loot definitely qualified.

"Please," Revan said. "You'd be dead as soon as you got in range of this baby." He patted the looted blaster pistol on his hip. "You have one guard and she is sleeping on her feet."

"You can tell the Rodian is a gal?" Hax asked. "How?"

Revan waved a hand in dismissal. "Lucky guess. So, we have a deal, captain?"

"Aren't you going to ask what product we are moving?"

Tab was tempted to answer, but they needed to play this right, to appear only smart enough for the smuggler to hire them and no more.

"It's a Republic freighter," said Revan. "How bad could it be?"

"You wouldn't believe me," said Hax. "But we are in luck. They were making a delivery to Coruscant. Fancy foods for fancy restaurants."

Revan and Tab joined the exhausted Rodian, and there was no more trouble. One time a Zabrak came by with a pair of humans, but Revan had been telling their new friend about that time he blew up a Rancor by mixing grenades into poor thing's food, and the wannabe-extorters just walked by. Half an hour passed, and the ship was lifting off the lump of rock they had landed on the night before. Tab went to the navcomputer to get the name of the place and found out it was XZHY-193 as catalogued by a droid scouting vessel that had passed by it some two hundred years ago.

"So how did the freighter end up in this ass crack of the universe?" asked Tab as the pilot was pulling them out of the atmosphere.

The captain said, "They got too close to the Outer Rim and didn't get out fast enough. A couple of pirate friends asked them to kindly abandon their vessel, but the idiots tried to jump to a random green planet instead. Well, they jumped with two photon torpedoes exploding behind the stern. Screwed up their navigation, made them land partway inside the planet's gravity well. Inertial dampeners weren't set up properly, so deceleration killed anything on board not in stasis boxes. You should have seen the bridge. Like ten scatter mines went off all at once, and then a bantha trampled over what remained of the crew."

"How the hell did the hull stay in one piece?"

"It didn't. A third of the ship got ripped off on entry, but the shields and the astromech droids—may their scrap go to their metal gods—managed to crash the ship into soft ground at an angle. What you saw was one third of the freighter. The back third landed elsewhere in pieces and the front one got squished into a slab of metal. The bridge was in the middle, not that it did anyone on it any good."

Tab shook his head. He couldn't ask and risk betraying their ignorance, but surely the galaxy wasn't safe enough to send an unarmed ship of such size this far from the Core worlds without an escort. Or maybe there had been an escort. He asked, "And what about your pirate friends?"

"All of us are giving them a cut."

They made a short jump and the two Jedi decided to use this opportunity to get a few hours of sleep.

###

Both of them woke up at the same time. The Force was screaming at Tab that they were in danger, and he and Revan immediately rushed to the cockpit to catch the tail end of a conversation.

"We had a deal, Mark," said Haz.

There was no video and all they had to go by was Mark's voice—raspy like sandpaper on bone. "We had. I found a direct buyer for your stuff. Now be reasonable, power down your weapons, and open the hatch. I have twenty men. No one has to get hurt."

Revan leaned toward Hax and whispered something in his ear. Hax shook his head, and Revan said something else. Reluctantly, Hax nodded. "Okay, you got us. We'll bring the boxes to the hatch so your bozos don't bust half of the stuff in my ship."

"You have ten minutes."

Hax cut the connection and turned to Revan. "Hope you know what you are doing."

"Please, I could pull it off in my sleep," said Revan.

The former Sith Lord motioned for Tab to follow him and went to the workshop.

###

"Been some time since we did something like this, eh?" asked Revan, welding together the protective casing for the explosive device they were working on.

The air in the five-by-five workshop had the sharp chemical smell of acid that burned in Tab's nose, and the hint of short-circuited electronics didn't help either. He felt his nose tingle, turned away from Revan and the upcoming bomb, and sneezed.

"Damn," he said, "This so-called workshop is shit. Back home we could build a lightsaber out of a food dispenser with the kind of facilities we had." He sighed and went back to work. "I just wish they had something except concussive grenades here. Mines would be better, perhaps plasma."

Revan said, "We don't want to blow a hole in the hull and vent us all into space."

Tab took a security kit, an ultrasonic saw, and prongs from the storage box next to the workbench. He put the grenade in front of him and probed it gently with the Force, searching for the detonator. There was a tiny hole next to it, and if someone put a pin in it and then cut a thin metal plate next to it, the grenade would pop open, exposing the payload inside. It was the kind of work that didn't require particular skill, but deft hands and a sharp eye were definitely needed.

Neither of them was particularly skilled in making explosives, but between Revan's engineering expertise and Tab's careful use of the Force, they managed. After five minutes, sweat was pouring down his forehead in rivulets as the Jedi Master held the detonator firmly in place with the Force while Revan opened their fifth grenade.

"I don't think I can handle another one and still be able to fight," Tab said.

"Alright. Give it here," said Revan and added the payload to everything they had already put in the case. "Now all we need is something to shield our ears."

They had two minutes left when they brought their creation to the thatch, where Hax and his people were piling up boxes with spoiled rations and other junk inside them.

"Put three containers of the real stuff in front of the fake ones. We want that bantha fodder to get as close as possible. You got the bomb?" Hax held out a hand.

"I'll set it up myself. Don't want that shockwave blasting into us," said Revan.

The payload came in quarter-inch powdery grey granules that stuck to fingers and burned in a series of low-heat sharp claps when crushed into powder. These were now poured into a metal tube that opened on one end. The powder was pressed into one solid block. Tab helped Revan set it on the ground and move a couple boxes to pin it in place. They gingerly stabbed all five detonators into the block, hid the explosive behind an empty box, and everyone except Revan retreated behind a corner. The former Sith took out and palmed balls of plasteel they had heated and formed into primitive earmuffs. Revan punched in a command, and everyone heard the hiss of air rushing into the hatch.

"How will he detonate it?" asked Hax, his mouth close to Tab's ear to keep quiet, warm breath sliding across the Jedi Master's skin in a way he didn't appreciate.

"You'll see," said Tab. "Just make sure to start firing when he does it."

Revan was built like a tombstone: Tab had walked into him in the past and bounced right off. But every Sith was a master manipulator, and even if his friend no longer was one, the cunning and sheer force of personality he had now were even more impressive than what had carried him through the war against the Mandalorians. Revan hunched his back into a question mark, rose one shoulder slightly, and folded upon himself. He lost two inches of height and was now looking around nervously like a criminal volunteered for death would do. The thatch door opened with the scragging of old machinery, and Tab ducked behind the corner, relying on his ears to know when it would be time. The smugglers next to him reeked of sweat and he prayed for Revan to hurry.

"You! Bring the boxes to us." Mark's voice rang out in the hall. The leader of the hunters asked like every violent criminal boss Tab had ever met did. Something about a harsh life of shouting at imbeciles made them speak as if a piece of barbed wire was being pulled up their throats at every word.

"Please, I don't want to die," said Revan with a slight lisp and a Dantooine farmer's accent, his original voice barely recognizable.

Things were silent for ten second or so. A soft thump of a crate being put on the floor sounded.

"Good, that's the stuff," said Mark. "Next one."

"Boss, why don't we kill this kriffing poodoo and unload everything ourselves?" asked someone smart.

"Please, I'll do it really fast, I truly can, just don't hurt me," said Revan, and there was a light spattering of boots hitting the metal floor.

Tab peeked around the corner, seeing Revan run toward the remaining cargo while a rough bunch of pirates had him in their sights. A Rodian and a crowd of humans including one burly type, probably the leader. The Jedi Master reached a hand toward Hax and started to count seconds. Five. Revan reached for the box in front of the bomb. Four. He fumbled, nearly falling to the floor.

"Don't drop my loot, smuggler scum," said the burly leader.

Three. Revan gripped the box properly and picked it up. Two. He turned in place, still keeping his body between the bomb and Mark's crew. One. The box started to slip from his fingers and he had to step back not to drop it. On zero, Revan stomped on the metal tube, and the corridor exploded with a wave of deafening force. Even on this side of the trap, it sounded like somebody bottled thunder and then cracked that bottle over Tab's skull, and he barely managed to stay on his feet. He saw Revan jump up and get thrown up and above the pirates by the shockwave, his red energy shield flickering into place. It wouldn't last long if the enemy crew got their bearings back.

Tab pulled out his blaster, stepped around the corner, and started shooting at the prone bodies of Marks' crew. Behind him, only Hax wasn't groaning on the floor.

###

Dooku's light cruiser exited hyperspace on top of two ships docked with each other. It took a moment for the astromech droid on board to hack through the encryption, and the cabin filled with static and radio chatter.

"Seal the bulkheads in section—vent the damn—want those smugglers off—"

"—are sealing—ahead—"

"—me a plasma torch and a spacesuit—make sure that if they run, they'll tear—"

By this point the droids managed to fully get through the encryption.

"I'm welding the docking hatches together. Hax, get him a blowtorch."

Slight buzzing echoed in the speakers, and Dooku knew what to do. He stepped up the console and pressed the hailing button.

"Unknown vessels, this is Deva's Fall, under the command of Jedi Master Dooku. Stop all hostilities unless you want to be arrested."

The Jedi tensed and waited for a response, but he heard only crackling static, and barked commands. It sounded like one ship had boarded the other and both crews were in the melee.

"Let's try to get their attention. Captain, ready all our weapons and aim the turbolasers at them. Make sure you don't hit anything vital in case their shields give out."

The weapons spun to life in half a second, and the Jedi saw the change in status on the consoles in front of the pilots. Larger ships were simpler, he thought, because all functions would be separated into stations. You would have navigation stations, battle stations, pilot's and co-pilot's stations... His current ship was picked because it could move fast and pack a punch with only a dozen and a half crew members. Everything was automated.

"Acquire target," he said, and an astromech droid beeped affirmation. "Fire."

The pilot pressed a button and two bolt of contained plasma launched at the enemy ships. Normally, the art of space combat was the art of keeping close, because chugging bolts of superheated material at your opponent from any sort of distance wouldn't work. This was also why pursuing a faster vessel would normally be impossible. Dooku was quite sure that the smugglers were faster than his ship, and the pirates could be anywhere from the speed of a dead bantha and up to the speed of a lunging giant tiger from Kashyyk. It didn't matter, of course, because their opponents were currently immobile and docked with each other. He saw bolts slam into both the ships, and shields briefly shimmered.

He said, "One or both of you are violating galactic law by attacking another vessel. Stand down or we will destroy your engines."

The Jedi left it unmentioned that blowing up the engines of a ship that wasn't powered down was usually accompanied by hull breaches, power failures, and toxic fumes spilling into the ship. Losing only a third of your crew under such circumstances was considered lucky by most spacefaring folk.

The com crackled, and a man's voice sounded throughout the cabin. "Stop shooting. We are traders dealing in risky goods, and we got attacked by pirates. If you'd like to help, there is another hatch on the other side of their ship." He sounded like someone used to giving commands.

"What proof do we have that you didn't attack them first?"

There was something strange about the man's voice, and Dooku had to focus for a second before he pinpointed it. At this distance, he could feel the faintest whisper of Force coming from the pirate ship.

"Look, we are kind of busy right now. Let us finish or help us, and we'll happily answer your questions."

"I will not allow lives to be wasted—"

"Damn it, there are slaves here. He's going to murder everyone. We'll talk to you later."

"Master Jedi, they have cut the channel we have been listening on," said the captain.

"Oh, for the love of… Take us in, Captain," said Dooku. "Me and Larka will go take a look."

It took them three minutes to approach and dock. Dooku put on a helmet with an oxygen supply and switched on his lightsaber. The scanners read that there was enough pressure on the other side to breathe, but that could change any moment with people firing blasters and chugging grenades at each other. The docking sleeve pressurized between thatch doors and he and Larka crossed over, energy shields already on.

The place was dim, and Dooku could feel the dryness of the air on his skin. The floor wasn't even proper floor: it had black steel grates on it and under them he could see the inner plating of the hull.

"Pathetic," said Larka on their close-circuit radio.

"I agree," said Dooku. He heard muffled sounds of blaster fire through the door and motioned Larka to open it.

They came out behind a battle. The hall in front of them curved directly into the bridge of a pirate vessel, and a group of who appeared to be smugglers was pushing their way into it. All of them looked fairly ordinary for their trade: clothes made of worn leather or synthetics, blasters at their hips, unkempt hair, and everything like that. They also didn't stink the way the ship did. Two men, however, stood out. One was at the front of the battle, spinning, and dodging, and twisting his muscled body out of the way of the shots fired at him in a way that reminded Dooku of when he, still a boy, started his tutelage under Grandmaster Yoda. Another man was busy pinning down pirates who were shooting at the acrobatics-obsessed smuggler. That one was a lot more lithe and alert, as he looked back at Dooku the moment he and Larka entered the room.

"Revan, come, be reasonable," said the smaller man to the larger one. "We have freed the slaves, we'll put them somewhere they will learn to trust life again."

"No," said Revan.

Dooku saw the man's weapon—a serpentine vibrodagger with which he carved open any pirate he got close enough to. He reached into the Force and stretched his senses toward the man, but couldn't feel even the whisper of power he had managed to glean when they were approaching the ship. Pirates continued shooting from the bridge, and smugglers were shooting back, and a bolt whizzed past his head, splashing against the wall.

He looked at the star-shaped burn mark and said, "By the authority of the Jedi Council I order you to stop!"

He saw the pirates peeking out of the doorway to the bridge slow their suppressing fire for just a second, and then Revan sprung toward them, following a concussion grenade thrown by his friend. Dooku willed the Force to his feet and jumped forward, blasting off the floor at a low angle. He cleared ten feet when the grenade went off and he had to duck behind a smuggler for a second before continuing forward. By that point, the knife-wielder held in front of him a corpse with blood still pouring from its throat. A heavy laser whirred and the corpse shuddered as bolts hit it. Had these been ordinary wookie hunting bolts, the Raven would be dead, thought Dooku, as he rushed toward the two. It appeared that only two guards and the heavy-laser man had been on the bridge when the smuggler managed to get inside, and now only the one with the laser was left alive.

With his Knight's Speed, Dooku was almost able to reach the man when he turned and kicked the corpse at him, using the impulse to spin himself into a somersault that went over the last pirate's head. The Jedi dodged to the side and flung the corpse at a wall with a Force Push, but he could only watch as Revan landed behind the pirate and stabbed him to the back of his neck, the blade exiting from his forehead with a crack of breaking bone. The now dead pirate captain slid to the floor and the man looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"You are late with your peace-keeping, Jedi," said Revan, wiping and sheathing his dagger. "You always are."

End of Chapter Notes

This first chapter turned out very different from the prologue which was reasonably cracky, but I'm happy with the way it's going. I may actually rewrite the prologue at some point to fit the tone of the story better. We'll see.

A reminder: this is pre-prequels right now. We'll get to the events of Phantom Menace in a while, but it's still a way off. I plan to run things in parallel to the main storyline, but Revan and Tab will mostly be interacting with adult characters. Anakin will get some love (because he's the 'Chosen One', of course), but I find the Obi Wan-Anakin chemistry to be the only good thing about the prequels, so he won't become Revan's full-time apprentice. Knocking some sense into Obi Wan, though, is another question altogether, and it will come up once they get into contact with the Jedi Council.

A side note. This story will be written in third person from the point of view of the protagonists (Revan, Tab, Dooku, Obi Wan, etc.). I find scenes written from Darth Sidious's perspective in other Star Wars fics annoying as hell. I don't think the Game of Thrones approach works here, because the Big Bad of the series, Darth Sidious, is just a psychopath completely lost in his hunger for power. There is a reason why Vader is the antagonist for most of the original trilogy. He is a tragic, controversial figure that a viewer can imagine themselves potentially becoming in similar circumstances. The Emperor is just pure evil, which makes him unrelatable.

If you like what I've got here, consider leaving feedback. As always, links to my other projects and stuff are in the profile.

Stay shiny and until next time.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes

Hi, everyone. Unfortunately, there has been some personal stuff that made me stop writing fics for a while, but now I'm back and the chances of this repeating are zero. Depressing particulars at the end of the chapter.

In other news, I now know what I want from this fic: a kind of epic weird space saga with focus on character-building. Again, look up the end of the chapter if you want to know more.

Let's hop in.

Chapter 3

Captain Hax hadn't carried anything illegal, so Dooku had decided to let the man go. Jedi weren't police officers even if sometimes he wondered whether they should take a larger part in law enforcement. It seemed these days that Republic was full of loopholes for those willing to smuggle, steal, and sell other sentient beings into slavery, and he had no doubt the Senate directly profited from these activities. It was disgusting.

What he couldn't let go in good conscience were two questionably sane Force Sensitives, so he had invited Tab and Revan to his vessel. At best of times, those who hadn't got their education at the Jedi Temple were weird. At worst, they could be unstable or outright homicidal, and in his many years of service to the Force he thought he had seen every kind of strange, but these two took the cake.

"I'm sorry, what's the name of this game again?" Dooku asked Revan. "It looks like simplified sabacc."

They were sitting in the cargo hold, and the two men had been playing a card game for an hour, gambling with small amounts of credits.

"Can't believe you've never heard of pazaak. The point is to get as close to twenty points as you can without exceeding the number. If you get more than twenty, you lose."

"It's twenty-three in sabacc, and you can win by getting zero, two, and three in a sequence too. And the cards shift randomly. And you can keep them from shifting by revealing them to your opponents."

Revan scoffed. "Well, never played your needlessly complicated game, but there is a side deck here, and you can play an additional card from it per turn. Want to try? We'll let you borrow our cards."

"I would rather observe."

"No surprise a Jedi doesn't want to gamble," said Revan. "Suit yourself."

Dooku sat on his heels like all Jedi had been taught since time immemorial. Tabook held the same pose with ease that marked him as someone who had long since gotten used to it. Maybe he had been trained since childhood, like other Jedi. Revan lay on his right side, supporting his head with his right hand. He looked completely relaxed, almost sleepy.

"Revan, I've been meaning to ask you. Did your parents know the significance of the name they gave you?"

Revan smirked up at him and kept playing for a while. Eventually he said, "Names are earned. And mine has been troublesome on so many occasions I'm not sure it's worth its price anymore." He paused, considering something. "But you say you know it. Is there a Revan in Jedi history?"

"How about you answer my questions first?" asked Dooku.

"Is this an interrogation?" asked Tabook.

The older Jedi Master sighed and held up his hands in surrender. The pair had been more amiable toward the smugglers than to him. He said, "No, I'm not charging you with anything. The pirate ship logs have clearly shown that they attacked you first. I just wonder where all the records from before the attack went. And I wonder where your ship got their goods."

"A computer glitch," said Revan. "Now please stop interrupting. I have a game to win."

Dooku watched them play a game to a draw before deciding there was no harm in telling them the story. "She fell." Dooku was silent for a moment and then shook his head. "Revan was a Jedi Knight thousands of years ago. When the Mandalorians waged war upon the Republic, and the Jedi hesitated, she rebelled. She defeated the Mandalorians at a terrible cost and turned on the Republic. She almost won too but lost her memory in the end. The Council used her to destroy her apprentice Malak, and when she once again moved against the Republic, her own allies killed her." He opened his datapad, wondering if he had copied this story onto it at some point. It wasn't there. "Revan was a Mandalorian name, and after she beat her own people, they stopped naming their children with it."

He watched the two men carefully, but didn't catch anything beyond a guarded look passing between them. Tab snapped a card on the table. "Twenty," he said. "I win."

Revan smiled. Dooku saw he was at sixteen. He pulled another card from the deck. It was a seven. He said, "And I lose. It was a fine game. And you can't deny that Revan simply sounds badass despite whatever history you moldy Jedi might have with it."

Tabook nodded and turned to their host. "So why don't you tell us what you want from the two of us?"

"I would rather have that conversation after making my own observations."

He twitched a finger and a durasteel peg flew from a pile of spare parts behind Tab, heading for his head. Just before it hit, the man's eyes narrowed, and he leaned out of the way.

"Observations like that," said Dooku.

###

Dooku was asleep or in meditation, and Revan was in the workshop with Tab. The ship was spacious for such a small crew, and it was easy enough to avoid people they didn't want to meet. They still had five days before they would land.

"Deva's Fall is pretty great," said Revan. "Remember the restroom on Ebon Hawk? My knees touched the door. I had to use Battle Meditation to get there first in the mornings, because everyone just had to go."

Tab said, "Yes, I remember. If only the Jedi Council could see their most precious technique being used to speed spaceship crew through the shitter." Both of them chuckled. "What do you think of our host?"

"Dooku? He is pretty good. For one, he suspects." Revan gestured at his smuggler clothes. "He knows something is up with us, and he is using this travel time to let us trip over ourselves. Efficient. I like him." He chuckled. "Although I don't appreciate the whole stuffy old Jedi Master routine. I've had enough of that crap for a lifetime."

Tab nodded, and the two of them laid their lightsabers on the workbench and opened them up. Revan had removed his crystals and the cylinder was now full of broken parts. He shifted through the components.

"My emitters are shot," he said. "The containment ring has two hairline cracks, but I can easily solder those with a plasma streamer."

He took a small cube from the pile, examined it with a loupe, then spun it with the Force for a moment. He weighed it in his hand. "Well, the diatium power cell still has the gas in it, which is good because getting that could be a huge pain."

Tab said, "Mine is still sealed too. We'll need to test the discharge mechanisms once we get the containment field working again and then there is the emitter. I guess this is what shorted out when we got here."

Revan nodded. "I think the space between dimensions was filled with lightning, which is why we got singed. My saber looks like an electric spark spontaneously flared inside the cylinder, bypassing the insulation. It activated the magnetic containment field with an inert power cell, and without the plasma stream for the field to wrap around, the magnets just wrecked the entire thing. Only the outer cylinder and non-metallic components are still working."

Tab sorted out the irreparable bits and threw them into a mini incinerator. His friend then took the empty casing of his weapon and caressed it absent-mindedly. He said, "It's like Kreia used to say, isn't it? We Jedi are supposed to be resilient, powerful, and wise, but take away our toys, take away the Force, and we become helpless." He shook his head. "How long do you think we need?"

"Two days if we can find all the spare parts. Three if we want to install the bifurcated igniters and make the sabers waterproof again. That is, if Dooku doesn't have some spare emitters made to our specifications lying around."

###

They said they had no memory of being trained in the Force, but Dooku didn't believe them. There was a lot about the pair that didn't add up. He saw they were experienced warriors in the way they moved, always alert and gliding across the floor even when simply walking to the mess hall. He could tell they were skilled at manipulation, which supported his theory of them being trained under a renegade Jedi. Only the Force knew how many they had lost, and some species could live for a very long time.

But when he looked through the Force, there was nothing more to them than the faint pulse of sentient life. He was sure there was something there, but there was some sort of complex shield or a veil, and he had been apprehensive of veils as of late.

They had been travelling together for a week, and all he had learned was how to play pazaak and that both men liked to exercise. Revan was stronger and more agile, doing endless reps of push-ups, crunches, and chin-ups in the cramped ship gym. Tab favored medium level static poses that half the galaxy made a use of, including the Jedi. The pair would happily listen to him when he tried to explain the peace-keeping mission he was on, but they didn't offer any information about themselves.

"So somebody has been harassing this Gran colony, and they asked the Jedi to intervene?" asked Revan.

They were in the mess hall slowly chewing on white sinewy roots that Corellians grew for space travel. They tasted like resin and felt like bricks in the stomach, but a human could subside on one pound of the stuff for days. Dooku decided his current mouthful couldn't be improved anymore by chewing and swallowed, feeling it scrape along the walls of his throat.

"Gran have no military," he explained. "They are a profoundly peaceful race, and they are vulnerable even on their home world. Thousands of years ago, after the Ruusan reformation but before the Rule of Two, Kinyen decided to stop emigration by cutting ties with the colonies. The orphaned planets are little communities now, and Gran need a large number of social bonds to stay sane and healthy. It's hard for them."

"Why don't they go back?"

"They can't. Those who have lived away from the home world are treated like lepers. They can land and walk Kinyen for five days once a year. Staying more is an offence punishable by permanent banishment."

Revan ruffled his black hair, and reddish mess hall lights glinted off his eyes. He said, "And the Republic protects the colonies?"

"Without our protection they would be preyed upon. None of them would survive more than a century."

Revan sighed and started furiously mincing his roots into white mush.

"So they can't survive in this galaxy," said Tab.

"With the help of the Jedi they can," said Dooku.

"I believe what Revan is asking is whether protecting them is right. The colonies could choose one planet and band together into a larger society. If they started dying out, the home planet could welcome them back. By protecting them, you are absolving Kinyen of any responsibility for turning their backs on their own people and you are stopping the colonies from searching for a permanent solution."

"They have no need to worry," said Revan. "Because the Jedi are always there when they need them. This is how problems build up, and then suddenly the Republic goes through a crisis, or there are less Jedi after some conflict with the Dark Side, and everything falls apart."

Much to his embarrassment, it took Dooku a week to be sure. When he was, he searched the ship for Tabook's presence, found him in the cargo hold, and headed there. Revan was in the workshop, probably tinkering.

Deva's Fall was a comfortable ship built for diplomatic missions, but it was still only a cruiser, so he got to his destination in two minutes. The room was dim-lit by blue lights that weren't meant to illuminate living beings. They made Tabook look like a statue carved from ice slightly glowing from within. Black boxes were secured to the walls on both sides of the narrow space in the middle, and one small container rested to the left of the man. Tab sat on his heels, motionless, his eyes closed. His chest didn't rise. Dooku sat opposite him and waited.

After a minute, Tab exhaled softly and opened his eyes. Blue glinted off his irises, making their grey flash azure for a second. Then the normal color returned. Neither Tab nor the lights in the hold moved.

"You are a Jedi," said Dooku.

The younger man tilted his head and looked him over with a playful smile. Yoda had a similar way of examining people: with faint amusement and bottomless pools of light hiding behind his mischievous eyes. Dooku suppressed an urge to twitch like he did back in his Padawan days when sitting in front of his Master.

"You say that like it's a terminal illness, Master Dooku. As if access to the Force is the only thing that matters." Tab shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know if I'm a Jedi."

Dooku listened to the Force as the other man spoke, and he heard no lies, but he had the distinct feeling there was on ocean of truth beyond the stream Tab was feeding him.

"Then what are you?" Dooku asked.

Tab opened the container next to him, and pulled out a thermopot. He then reached into a pocket and got a transparent bag of tea. Noticing Dooku's look, Tab said, "It is a habit I acquired during space travel. When moving around the Outer Rim, along the slower hyperspace lanes, one needs to pass time. And sometimes, there is little more left to do other than try to brew the perfect pot of tea with no equipment. At least the Alderaanians stocked this ship with plenty of leaves."

Dooku didn't react to the evasion and waited instead. He felt like this was some sort of test, and it irked him to be evaluated by a man half his age, but he would suffer through it if it would get him some answers.

Tab continued, "An old blind woman once told me that truth is a dangerous thing. That it can only be given when you can anticipate the impact it will have, and when the results are something you want."

"The Jedi Council could get the truth from you," said Dooku. "If you prove to be dangerous."

Tab grimaced as if he had swallowed a mouthful of Tatooine moonshine. "The Council doesn't have a monopoly on the Force, no matter what they might believe. They must follow the laws of the Republic. I doubt there is anything in those laws to get us interrogated simply because the Jedi are suspicious of us having unorthodox training."

The tea was ready then, and Tab poured it into two earth-brown ceramic cups. He pushed one to Dooku. "I will, however, tell you what is relevant, and what we would ask from the Jedi if your order is willing to give it."

Dooku didn't like not having control of the conversation, and he was one of the more level-headed Jedi Masters. He didn't think Tab's attitude would go well in that circular room on Coruscant where tempers and politics often got in the way of both spiritual growth and getting things done.

"Go ahead," he said.

"Both me and Revan had some previous Force training, that is true, but our level right now is that of Padawans, so you shouldn't worry. Padawans with some specialized knowledge but still." He let go of his cup, and it floated in the air for a moment. Dooku felt the strain in the Force—something he didn't know how to fake. It didn't mean it couldn't be done, though. "We also don't have much knowledge of the current affairs, because we led lives that were isolated from this galaxy."

Dooku sipped the tea. It was well-brewed, but if Tabook aimed at perfection, he still had a long way to go. Making tea properly required pouring water in at precisely the right temperature that differed for each brand. The master needed to get the leaves out after waiting just the right amount of time that was different for each tea. He wondered how much experience with tea Tabook had outside of being bored in hyperspace travel.

"You would like to join the Jedi?" he asked. "At your age that would be impossible."

"We already have the training," said Revan from behind Dooku, and the former noble jumped, nearly splashing scalding liquid all over his robes.

Tab shook his head with a smile. "Revan, come on. We've talked about sneaking up on people."

"We did," said Revan, nodding and sitting near his friend. "I listened to your opinion and chose to ignore it. Now give me tea."

Dooku looked between the two of them with a frown. "Jedi teachings are dangerous, and the two of you are brash, irresponsible, and not in control of your emotions. You are set up to Fall."

"Can a man be condemned for something he hasn't done?" asked Tab.

They drank the rest of the tea in silence.

###

Dooku meditated. The veil was slowly constricting around their necks, and the Council didn't know what to do about it. They all had learned to rely upon the Force in the smallest of things. It was frowned upon to use their powers to pick up a datapad that was just out of reach, but somehow the entire Order had let their free will become supplanted by revelation. Even he, after coming to terms with Tab and Revan's presence, didn't write a list of pros and cons and think about the problem logically. No, instead he went to his room to meditate.

If things kept going the way they were, something terrible would happen to the Order, he just knew it.

"Master Dooku? There is an emergency transmission for you. We picked it up between jumps."

"Thank you, captain, I'll be right there."

He rose from his knees, moved to the door, and stopped. He had been feeling more energetic lately, and old bones didn't bother him as much as they used to. Dooku took a moment to examine how he felt. He had trained heavily yesterday, and yet nothing ached today. His knees didn't hurt after an hour in meditation. He hadn't felt this healthy in a decade. He frowned and went to the bridge.

"Play it, captain," he said.

A figure of Mace Windu, hands behind his back, appeared above a holographic projector in the left part of the console. The man looked as frazzled as he ever got.

"Master Dooku, I hope this message finds you before you get to your destination. A fellow Jedi has been tracking an illegal weapons ring for a while, which led him to Geonosis. It turned out that a few months back a significant noble house expressed disagreement with the government's policy there. I'm sure you understand the consequences."

Indeed he did. Geonosians lived as a hive, and separate clans were allowed only so much autonomy. Going against the wishes of the hive resulted in banishment for individuals and death for groups.

Mace continued, "They were cast out, and reportedly formed a colony in the region where you are heading. When the Gran settled their world, they didn't pay attention to the habitable planetoids in the system, even if they have natural cavern networks, enough atmosphere, and very low gravity that make them ideal for space stations." Mace looked to the side. "Not now, I'm recording a message. Anyway, I am en route with backup. If you arrive earlier, you are to wait for me and my team away from the major hyperspace lanes. Send your intended coordinates as a reply to this message. We need to fix this before it turns into a bloodbath."

###

Revan looked at the regal old man, who looked more energetic lately. He wondered how long it would take for the Master to catch on to what was happening to him.

"Well, if we are dropping into a warzone, then perhaps you can help us with some repairs."

"You sure it's a good idea?" asked Tab.

"We are on a spaceship that is going to a system inhabited by warmongering space-bugs genetically engineered for battle. I need it fixed."

He walked to his locker, opened it with his key, grabbed the package, and carried it into the workbench in one of the cargo rooms they had been using. With all the tenderness of laying a baby into a crib, Revan lowered his treasure onto the working surface and unwrapped it.

###

Dooku looked at the disassembled lightsaber on the workbench in front of him and frowned. He reached his fingers to the casing but didn't touch.

"I have never seen anything like it," he said. "What is the alloy?"

Revan tapped his chin. "You know, I have no idea. The metal is a natural Force capacitor, and spectrometers fail when alayzing it. I know there is titanium, tungsten, and iron in there. You can pick it up if you like. It's not like it's a weapon right now."

The Master gingerly took the casing into his hands. It was matte-black, with a band of silver separating the handles for each hand. He knew the basics of double-bladed combat but no more than that.

"Somebody had this custom-made," he said shaking his head. "It is masterfully done, but it is clearly an object of pride that doesn't suit a Jedi."

Revan huffed, took the casing from his hands, and put it back on the altar. "It kicks ass is what it does. When it isn't a pile of junk. Anyway, I am missing a couple components for the shield matrix. I thought that a Jedi would have a type two-point-four coil lying somewhere. They always blow first."

Dooku turned to Tab. "Where is yours?" he asked.

The man pointed to the small box standing in the corner. Tab picked it up, laid it on a free part of the workbench, and opened the lid. The inside was separated into compartments, and various lightsaber components were lying in them. Dooku saw that one of the energy diffusors was missing. The lightsaber casing was even stranger and more intricate that Revan's. Dooku recognized the feel of wroshyr wood, and the silver inlays and blue gems made the lightsaber look more like something ornamental than a weapon. They didn't show him their color crystals. He hoped they weren't red.

"I still don't know anything about you," he said to them. "But I'll help you if you promise to follow my commands when we land."

The pair glanced at each other and nodded at him.

He gave his own kit to Revan and Tab, and they got to work on their lightsabers. Meanwhile, the ship dropped out of hyperspace to pick up any messages and move to the final hyperspace route. He was going to report to Coruscant on his findings but instead found himself calling the backup Jedi team under the command of Mace Windu.

"They are probably in hyperspace," said the captain.

The communicator blinked its lights for half a minute, then it clicked, and an image of the best weapon master in the Order appeared. He always seemed like an ancient obsidian war deity to Dooku: powerful and implacable. Only now he was scowling more than usual, and he was clenching and unclenching his right hand.

"Master Dooku," said Windu. "When do you expect to get here?"

Dooku blinked. It was rare for Jedi to drop all propriety. "Master WIndu. You seem uncharacteristically grim."

He saw the tendons in Windu's neck tighten. "Our navigator pulled a miracle, and we arrived before you. A colony of Gran is being attacked right now, and I have two companies of mercenaries with me that some dolt at the Temple didn't run proper background checks on. I need more diplomats here, and all I have is a dozen fighters."

"Wasn't Qui-Gon supposed to go with your unit? He is an experienced negotiator."

WIndu smiled, but his expression looked more like an animal baring its teeth. Dooku wondered if it would be appropriate for him to caution one of the most powerful Jedi about the dangers of the Dark Side.

Master Windu said, "Qui-Gon is good, might even be the best at the job. But the mercenaries turned out to be Mandalorians. Got kicked out of their home system after Mandalore went pacifist. They saw Geonosians slaughtering Gran and herding them into slavery, and they went berserk." Windu rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, they have a really low opinion of slavers. They have already bitten in half and spit out every Geonosian on the Gran world and are now demolishing the moon that serves as the Geonosian home base."

"Can't you just withhold payment?"

"They don't care. And apparently the contract specifies that they are hired to fight the Geonosians without any restrictions, and this is what they are doing. I need you here, Dooku."

"We are three hours out."

"They will probably make it to the only major town by then. Anyway, get here as soon as you can."

The communicator switched off, and Dooku slumped into his chair.

###

"Mandalorians," said Revan. "You want us to do diplomacy with Mandalorians."

"With all due respect," said Tab, "are you well, Master Dooku?"

He looked at the two men in turn. "Of course I'm well. Admittedly, we are dealing with the warmongering faction, but what they are doing is madness. They weren't contracted to wipe out all the Geonosians, and it will cost them a lot of people. Why are they doing this?"

Revan frowned and rubbed his forehead. "You said that Gran are being forced into slavery across the system and that they are a peaceful race that is not capable of defending itself."

"We don't have much intelligence from the ground, but it appears so. Their home planet was a violent one. Most animals hunt in large packs, and Gran developed a strong sense of community and social dependence to survive. They culled the more dangerous wildlife centuries ago, and Kinyen is now one of the most peaceful places in the galaxy. They focus heavily on community and agriculture."

Tab shook his head. "They are not an honorable enemy for a militaristic society like Geonosians. This is why Mandalorians want to wipe out their presence in the system."

"Why would they do that if they were hired only to subdue them?" asked Dooku.

Tab glanced to Revan, and the larger man stayed silent for a minute before finally speaking, "Mandalorian culture is built around the concept of honor gained in battle, but there are different kinds of battle. It all depends on the enemy they are fighting. If they meet a well-organized army that doesn't use underhanded tactics, a show of force can be enough to resolve a dispute. If they meet someone like the Gran, they might pillage the world for resources and potential recruits and move on. The Geonosians are a chaotic hive of murderous insects that have no respect for anyone outside their species. When fighting someone like that, the Mandalorians will go for extermination."

Dooku saw no hesitation in either man. They spoke of Mandalorian culture with such certainty that he couldn't resist a smile. "You are aware that what we are dealing with here is a splinter group, aren't you? The main portion of Mandalorian populace has embraced peace as its philosophy."

Tab blinked. Revan said, "Bullshit."

"It is the truth, I'm afraid. The depth of your knowledge surprises me, but it is as if all you know is outdated. In any case, yes, we need to convince them to stop fighting. The Geonosians will retreat now that the Gran proved to be no easy target. Such is their way." He looked at Revan. "Since you seem to be an expert on Mandalorian military culture, how do we make them stand down?"

Revan snorted. "There is only one way. We show ourselves to be a resourceful and honorable enemy. We land on the Geonosian planetoid, challenge their course of action through combat, and kill and maim enough of them to earn respect."

Dooku felt a chill creep up his spine at how casual Revan spoke about murder. "I was talking about the diplomatic approach."

Tab grinned without any mirth. "This is the diplomatic approach. The reason why your Jedi friends haven't had any luck is because the Mandalorians won't listen to anyone who hasn't spilled blood either with them or against them. By now you Jedi team is probably about to start fighting them anyway because there is nothing more annoying to a Mandalorian than some flowers-and-rainbow guy in a gown prattling about peace and getting in the way of a good fight."

Revan nodded. "The better option was to join the Mandalorians and kill enough Geonosians with them to earn the right to ask them to stop. But you Jedi decided to go for the doomed talk route."

They were discussing this on the bridge, so the captain and the pilot could hear what was going on. Deva's Fall had just exited hyperspace. The communicator blinked, and Mace Windu appeared again. His lightsaber was out, and he was busy deflecting blaster bolts.

"Dooku, get yourself and your people here now! These lunatics opened fire on me and my men. We are about to push for the Mandalorian command post to beat some sense into their commander, and we need all the support we can get."

The image flickered off, and the bridge was filled with thick silence. Raven sighed. "I'm going to get our lightsabers, Tab. You get the armor and ammunition."

Dooku walked up to the captain and said, "Take us in, captain. I want you to drop us off as close as possible to the beacon Mace Windu is carrying, and join the fight."

Tab stopped in the doorway on his way out. "Could you by any chance fly in over the Mandalorian positions and open the airlock on the way. That would be phenomenal." Without waiting for an answer, he ran off throwing an "okay, thanks, bye" over his shoulder.

The captain looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Dooku shrugged. "Why not? Let's see what they can do."

###

Revan stood in the airlock and adjusted the armor. He tested how easily he could move and frowned.

"Damn it. I wish they had better equipment on this ship, so we could fix our robes. Ceramic plates, blegh. I miss the durasteel mesh in the lining."

His friend smiled at him, bent down, and touched his toes with his fingers. He then went through a short series of stretch exercises. "You are spoiled, Revan. You used to run around in armor much heavier than this, and you were fine."

"And whose fault is it that I switched to simple reinforced robes?"

"I refuse to take this because I taught you proper defensive techniques."

The intercom buzzed on. "Dooku speaking. Thirty seconds until drop-off. Are you sure about this?"

"Piece of cake," said Tab.

A decontamination shower started, and Revan laughed, careful not to inhale any of the chemicals. The ship was protecting the outside from any contaminants they might carry when they were about to start dismembering people in a minute. It was hilarious.

"Ten seconds," said Dooku.

Tab and Revan walked up to the door—a foot-thick slab of metal. He put a hand on it, and felt the vibration. "Like always," he said.

Tab nodded, bowed his head, and stretched his free hand forward. A bubble shimmered into existence around them, and Revan heard Dooku gasp on the intercom. He was too busy with reinforcing their bodies to reply. Force Valor was a basic reinforcement technique that he had worked on until it got perfect. As he was now, it took about a third of his reserves instead of the usually negligible drain. He forced himself to relax. He wouldn't be using Force Powers much during this fight anyway.

The door slid to the right in half a second, he and Tab clasped forearms and jumped out. The shield solidified into cerulean and stretched like any bubble would in a hurricane. The world flipped as they got tossed in the air a dozen times until the rotation slowed enough to see the rapidly approaching ground.

"Got it!" he shouted to Tab as he fired off a Force Wave to stop their spinning.

There was a squad of six Mandalorians in traditional battle armor and he used another blast to jut them toward the group. He could see a bead of sweat on Tab's brow but didn't comment. If Tab said he could do the job with these reserves, then he could do it.

The Mandalorians started rising their heads and their guns just when Tab thrust his right palm forward, and then grasped empty air with it. The Force answered his friend's call with a growl instead of the usual roar but it was enough.

The Mandalorians got tossed into a Force Whirlwind just as the two of them hit it. He felt the deceleration flatten his skin against his skull and push his eyes into their sockets. The shield slammed into the ground with a bone-rattling lurch, and then the two of them bounced, becoming as trapped as the Mandalorians were.

Being trapped in close quarters with two Jedi wasn't anyone's idea of a fun time.

Their blades ignited with a familiar snap-hiss, and Revan allowed himself a sigh of relief as he bisected a Mandalorian. He hadn't had the time to test the rebuilt weapon properly, so he had worried it wouldn't work after the drop.

Revan deflected an orange blast at another mercenary.

"Drop it," he said to Tab.

His friend cancelled the technique, and they, two corpses, and four more remaining enemies hit the reddish-brown ground. Their opponents thudded against the earth like potato sacks, but falling from ten feet up was nothing to a Jedi. He dashed to the center of the group and spun his blades in a circle, cutting apart three enemies. Beside him, Tab sidestepped a clumsy vibroblade swipe, lunged forward, and stabbed one of the Mandalorians in her left eye.

Tab glanced behind him and back, cursed, and flung his lightsaber. Revan dropped to the ground, and not a second later two laser bolts hurled past him, searing his skin with barely contained heat. Tab's silver lightsaber flew into the distance, there was a muffled scream, and it returned.

"Switch on your energy shield, Revan," said Tab. "It's better than health insurance."

He did so. The two of them ran behind a column and took a breath, surveying their surroundings. The planetoid hadn't been occupied by the Geonosians for long, but the insects had already made it their home. Tab and Revan were in a starport out on the surface, and it was a death trap. Ten-foot walls of brown stone separated landing pads from each other, and guard towers jutted a hundred feet into the air armed with projectors powerful enough to blind whoever they focused on.

"Impressive throw," said Revan. "That sniper on the tower was what, one hundred and fifty feet away from us?"

His friend grinned, one of his eyes bloodshot. "Yeah, but I'm almost out. Between the shielding and the fall and the throw I have burned through most of my reserves."

Revan thumped himself on the Alderaanian armor. "We'll be fine," he said. "Just focus on deflecting blaster bolts."

Their communicators cracked to life.

"Revan, Tabook, can you hear me?" asked Dooku.

"Yes," said Revan. "Had a bit of a rough landing."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. The people we landed on aren't."

"Okay, right." A barrage of blaster fire sounded from the communicator followed by somebody yelling something. "We are pinned down near the main landing pad. The place is a killing box. There is a catwalk surrounding it, and it is full of Mandalorians shooting at us from behind cover. Apparently somebody forgot to include the don't-attack-your-employer clause in the contract."

Revan glanced at Tab and said, "That happens sometimes with Mandalorians. Don't worry, we should be fine once we decapitate their commander."

"There will be no—" the voice was replaced by a loud boom and thud of bodies. "Obi-Wan is down, damn it. Now would be the time to start that surprise attack you two planned."

"Right. I've got your coordinates, hold on for another minute."

The lights from one of the remaining towers swept across the lumpy ground and focused on the group of Mandalorians they had decimated. He heard the familiar whirr of stationary repeating blasters and didn't wait for them to finish spinning up.

"Run!" Revan pushed Tab out of their sorry excuse of cover, and the two of them sprinted to the main landing pad.

Even with their Force abilities had been dampened, their physical shape was the same as always. Adrenaline-filled blood pumped in his ears as Revan vaulted over a wall, landing behind a Geonosian who was under fire by two Mandalorians. He spun his blade, deflecting three bolts in random directions, and continued his dash. Geonosians were brown insectoid creatures with gossamer wings the length of their body that enabled them to fly. Their hives operated on a caste basis and they were beyond xenophobic. He couldn't blame them. Had he been an asexual insect living in a rock and bred to thoughtlessly follow the commands of fatter insects, he wouldn't understand other races too.

###

Dooku had sent his cruiser away to stop it from being shot down, but now he regretted it. He and a team of ten other Jedi were pinned behind the vessel the backup team had arrived on. Durasteel containers had been left by the Geonosians, and they along with the ship provided enough cover to stay safe as long as they didn't poke their heads out. Obi-Wan had, and now the boy lay on the ground with Qui-Gon tending to his wounds.

"This doesn't look good," said Mace. "I'm going to create an opening. When I do, you attack the catwalk on the left. It has the best cover from the guard towers even, if it has more people than other parts."

"You'll get killed, Mace," said Qui-Gon.

"Might get killed. And I was the one who dragged you into this mess, so it's my responsibility."

"Oh, get off the high horse," said Dooku. "We all knew what our position entails. Don't hurry to your death yet. I have help incoming."

"Ah, yes. The enigmatic Force users you've found. I don't know how two men can help us, even if they aren't dead yet."

One of the guard towers went silent. Dooku peaked from the container he had been hiding behind, and he had to duck back almost instantly. He heard the whirr of blasters and then his communicator turned on.

"Wait ten seconds and attack," said Revan. "I'll distract them."

"The towers?" asked Dooku.

"The towers won't be a problem. The countdown starts now." The communicator clicked off.

There were panicked shouts, and it took him a second to understand that the ones shouting were the Mandalorians. At least seventy of them were surrounding the dozen Jedi.

"What's going on?" asked Qui-Gon creeping toward Dooku and Mace after finishing bandaging Obi-Wan.

"We are waiting ten seconds and then we attack," said Dooku. A sharp scream pierced the shouts. "Five now." It wasn't a scream that a person made. It was a scream of metal—a guard tower collapsing.

"Now!"

Of eleven Jedi eight were in a good enough condition to fight. Mace crouched and then dashed up and forward in a Force Jump that Dooku could barely follow. He himself went low, darting to the catwalk in a series of short bursts of speed. Beside him, Qui-Gon moved fluidly, easily deflecting the few blaster bolts that were fired toward them.

Dooku jumped onto the catwalk and kicked off a Mandalorian who was about to open fire on him. A Force push to the face ensured that the soldier wouldn't be getting up and that nobody would reach his gun. He rolled behind a barrel, swept the feet from under another enemy and punched his lights out. Only after making sure that nobody was shooting at them did Dooku allow himself a survey of the situation.

"What the hell?" asked Qui-Gon, ducking under a vibroblade swipe and knocking out his opponent with a palm strike to the sternum. "Is that one of the strays you picked up?"

The reason they had been able to get out of the death zone was because almost every Mandalorian was firing at the opposite side of the killbox where Revan was mowing his way through their ranks. The man wore a spare set of Dooku's robes over medium armor, but he moved as if it didn't encumber him at all. He dashed forward, ducked under a barrage of blaster fire, almost lazily knocked two blaster bolts into Mandalorians, rolled, landed in the middle of a group of five enemies, spun around, and bisected three of them before Dooku could gasp. He then jumped into the air, and blasted himself toward another group, liberally using Force Pushes to evade the volleys fired at him.

His lightsaber was the color of gold stained with dry blood, and the width of the beam fluctuated like something alive.

"Stop gawking and help," said Tab on their channel. "He'll tire soon."

Dooku saw Mace's violet lightsaber flash about twenty feet from them and shook off the enchantment. There would be time for questions when they wouldn't be risking death at any second. He launched himself into the fray, allowing himself to use more force than necessary. Next to the path of carnage Revan was plowing through Mandalorian ranks, a couple soldiers mutilated by him wouldn't look too bad.

The fight lasted twenty seconds before the Mandalorians surrendered. It was the weirdest thing: thirty remaining soldiers just threw down their weapons and knelt on one knee. Dooku saw Revan exhale, bow his head in the enemy's direction, and sit heavily on a cargo box. He turned off the lightsaber but didn't clip it back to his belt. Tab walked up from the back looking dead tired but satisfied. He waved at Dooku in the most non-Jedi way possible and then sat down next to his friend.

"The towers are down," he said. "I don't think they had protocol for one of their own weapons turning upon them."

###

Revan turned off his lightsaber and leaned against a stack of crates. He let the Force trickle into him and breathed in purposeful slow breaths. The Mandalorians were kneeling before him, and Tab walked up him and laid a hand on his left shoulder.

"You okay?"

Revan nodded and clipped his weapon to his belt. "I think so." He took five more breaths. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I just forgot how much Force a Guardian uses. I didn't even try any of my techniques, and I'm drained."

Tab stepped forward to talk to the Mandalorians and the assembled Jedi, and Revan used the time to center himself and bandage the wound on his left forearm. He would heal it after getting some juice back.

"You seem adept at treating wounds. Care to help my Padawan?"

The man who approached him wore the robes of a Jedi Master. His beard and long hair were cliche enough to make Revan smile, but something in the man's eyes stopped him from laughing. There was intensity without arrogance in the gaze—something he saw rarely outside his own circle.

"Sure," he said and offered a handshake. "The name is Revan."

"Qui-Gon." The Jedi Master had a strong grip and hands hot as a furnace after the battle. "We can do proper introductions later. For now, tell me if you can do anything for Obi-Wan."

Revan shook his head. "Do all Jedi have such strange names?"

"Like you are one to talk."

"Touché."

The walked to an athletic young man lying behind some shipment crates. His robes were open in the front revealing heavy bruising, and there was an emptied medpac nearby. Revan recognized the wound immediately.

"Disruptors," he said. "I take it you haven't trained him in disruptor combat."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "There is specialized training against disruptors? I would welcome some even if they are illegal in Republic space."

Revan knelt by the boy's side, laid his hands on his chest, and started shutting off distractions. "It is very simple," he said. "The range is fifty feet at best. Get behind cover and shower the enemy with grenades."

"Grenades aren't a Jedi weapon."

"Never leave home without them," said Revan. "Damn hard to dodge or block a frag grenade since most shields work against energy. Don't you have healers with your group?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Very few have the talent for accelerating the healing in others, and all of the Masters and their apprentices are on Coruscant."

"Right. Now quiet, I need to work."

He should have called Tab to do the job as soon as he heard what the Jedi Master needed, but he would much rather throw his friend to the sharks of diplomacy than be fed to them himself. It was easier to focus on the Light among so many other Jedi, and he felt Tab gently siphon power from their surroundings giving him something to work with. Revan reached out with his senses and pulled the Force from outside, through Obi-Wan's body and then into himself.

Warmth flooded him to his eyes as energy filtered through the injured Padawan. Light made its way through the boy's system going around the ribs, the left lung, the liver, and the brain. Revan opened his eyes.

"Your Padawan has two cracked ribs, a bruised lung and liver, and a concussion. Two days in a regeneration trance should fix everything, and he'll be as good as new."

Qui-Gon blinked at him. "Regeneration sf a Knight-level technique. Some don't learn it until they make Master."

"You are kidding me. How can you be this complacent?" He gestured to the Mandalorian corpses surrounding them. "I mean, look at this mess." Revan ruffled his hair in annoyance. "Hey, Tab, you done there? We could use your medical expertise."

In the distance Tab waved off the Mandalorians and handed them off to the bald black Jedi who had moved like a true weapon master during the fight. His friend made his way to them, his steps careful. Revan frowned.

"How much did bringing down the towers cost you?"

"I used a lightsaber and heavy blasters." Tab flicked him on the forehead, and Revan was too tired to dodge. "What have you got for me?"

"This guy got hit by disruptor fire. You know more healing than I do. This is his Master, Qui-Gon."

Tab stared at Revan in suspicion until the former Sith grinned. His friend rubbed his forehead in frustration and motioned for him to move away from the hurt Padawan.

"You are his Master, right?" Tab looked at Qui-Gon. "Does he have extreme scarring from old wounds or intolerance to large amounts of toxins?"

The Jedi Master played with his beard a little. "Everybody has intolerance to large amounts of toxins, I guess." After seeing Tab's unimpressed stare, he added. "No more than anyone else."

Tab nodded sharply and waved Revan closer. "Since you piled this off on me, you get to hold him down."

With ease of long practice, Revan straddled the young man's stomach and pinned his arms to the ground. Tab sat cross-legged near Obi-Wan's head, laid his hands on his chest, and closed his eyes. Revan sighed. He had hoped Tab would work with his eyes open. He could see the soft glow start under the eyelids, but he doubted anyone else would. Qui-Gon was too focused on his Padawan.

The boy thrashed once, twice, then began to seize.

"Hold him still," said Tab, and a pulse of Force boomed from his hands, making his patient's muscles slacken.

It was over in a minute, but in that minute other Jedi had gathered around, reaching out with their senses. Revan barely suppressed a grin. Messing with people was fun.

End of Chapter Notes

EDIT NOTE: there was a scene at the end of this chapter with Tabook and Revan meeting Yoda. Yeah, I jumped the gun with that one as it belongs in the later chapters. It's gone.

So my grandfather died at the end of June, which is why I haven't updated in a while. We knew for a long time it was going to happen, but it still sucks. A strange thing, to lose someone who has been around since you were born. Like New York or Paris suddenly vanishing, and yet people around you just keep living, only you able to notice the loss.

I hope it hasn't impacted the quality of this chapter. Anyway, I'll be back to full strength soon, and I should be able to publish a chapter every couple weeks.

Good news is, I'm starting to get an idea of what Into the Maelstrom will look like. The Star Wars prequels are kind of lackluster (more like awful), and one of the reasons is because they feel small. I never got that feeling I had back when I watched the original trilogy—the feeling that Galaxy is limitless and full of secrets. I'd like this fic to have that.

For me, this is what makes the two KoTOR games so great: the feeling that you are making a difference in this limitless expanse of space by affecting just the right points (plus, you know, romance and training people to be Jedi). In the next chapter, I'll expose impressionable Padawans to Tab and Revan and some unsavory truths about the galaxy. Hopefully, soon they'll have a ship, a team, and a list of objectives that they need to accomplish while dealing with the overarching goal to go back to their reality. It should be fun, but I'm a bit daunted by just how huge the Star Wars universe is.

Also, my original novel is almost done. I find it hilarious that I first intended to finish it in March. It will be about 400 pages of sci-fi goodness, and I'm pretty much boiling with excitement at how it is turning out. The funny thing is that the stuff that won't go into the novel itself (character bios, politics, geography, all that stuff) is another 200 pages already. Anyway, I'll keep you posted, but all the writing, editing, and other stuff means it will still be at least two months. The itch to release it is getting unbearable.

Stay shiny and until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes

Hi, everyone. I know it's been a long time, but a lot of stuff happened these past few months. Some of it good, most of it hard on my time and health. Sorry for making you wait.

Originally, I wanted to cover Coruscant in one sweeping chapter, but then I got to it, and ended up with seven thousand words, and I'm not even halfway done, so I'll be splitting the capital world into two (three?) chapters.

Let's dive in.

EDIT NOTE: there was a scene at the end of the previous chapter with Tabook and Revan meeting Yoda. Yeah, I jumped the gun with that one as it belongs in the later chapters. If you read it before, please forget it for now—Revan and Tab will have a proper conversation with the High Council later.

Chapter 4

"Here she is," said Dooku. "Coruscant."

The cockpit screens dimmed the yellow sun, and the pinprick of light orbiting it stood out against the backdrop of space like an impossibly bright distant star. The point of white got brighter and brighter, and Tab began to see that it wasn't white at all: just an amalgam of purples and reds and blues all melding into one color from afar. It was a small discus now: they were coming from the dark side. The cruiser slowed down to a halt.

"This is Deva's Fall, requesting permission to land," said the captain.

Static crackled for several seconds before someone replied, "Welcome back, Deva's Fall. Routing you to the landing platform."

The ship began to accelerate, and the planet expanded. Flares of colors became shapes unfolding across its surface. What little darkness there was between the lights was short-lived. A crescent of light shone across the face of the planet where the day was beginning to overtake the night. It dispersed in the haze of the atmosphere and gave that entire side of Coruscant an eerie glow.

"It's beautiful," said Tab.

"It's vulnerable," said Revan. "All the people and government in one place."

Now that they were close enough, Tab could see the lattice of space stations and fleets parked in orbit all around the planet. For every one that left to land, another came in. It was impossible to tell their shapes or models from this distance without taking control of the sensors, so they looked like fireflies, swirling around a campfire. Tab closed his eyes, and reached out through the Force. Coruscant was louder than Nar Shaddaa. A trillion voices cried out in passion, feeling, and despair. He frowned. The deeper below the surface he delved, the more frantic the thoughts of the citizens got. Tab could still sense a pang of love or caring or compassion here and there, but almost everything was primal: starvation, bone-deep tiredness, sexual need, and enough screaming anger to burn a world to the ground. He tried to go even deeper when he felt Revan grab him by his left shoulder and shake him out of the trance.

He saw he had fallen to his knees at some point.

"I'm sorry," Tab said, rising. He looked to Dooku. "Coruscant is overpowering. This is where all the Padawans get trained?"

"Yes, it is," said the Count, slightly smiling.

"A place like this . . ." Tab shook his head. "I wouldn't let anyone unexperienced into the system."

As they were coming into the city, Tab was again reminded of the first time he had landed on Nar Shaddaa. Coruscant looked different enough: towers of glass and steel jutted from its pristine white surface, thousands of feet high—any landing diplomat would no doubt be impressed by this. But to one who knew the Force, this place's underbelly was far more prominent than that layer of veneer. Then again, he had introduced Mira to the Force on Nar Shaddaa, and she turned out fine, if a bit obsessed with tracking her targets down and with a bit of an exhibitionism streak. Then again, maybe she had been that way from the beginning, and the Force just help her become free.

Deva's Fall touched down with a soft thud half a minute after Windu's cruiser. Ships of this size were borderline unsafe for a landing pad crammed between skyscrapers.

"I wonder where all the waste goes," said Revan as they were walking toward the exit. "I looked it up as we were approaching: Coruscant has more than a trillion people." Revan shook his head and turned to Dooku. "I have no idea what your leaders are thinking, putting all your eggs into one basket that can't sustain itself even for a week. You import most of the food and then haul all the trash off the planet, don't you?"

Dooku looked at them askance. "That's the way the Republic has been run for a thousand years."

Tab said, "A lot of stuff has been done for a thousand years: domestic violence, child soldiers, slavery . . . doesn't mean it's right."

"Haven't you been to Coruscant before?" asked Dooku.

"I could never have forgotten setting foot on this world," said Tab.

The airlock hissed open, and city lights poured in from the outside. Tab and Revan started walking down after Dooku, the crew of the cruiser behind them. They hadn't been able to repair their robes yet, so they must have looked strange in Dooku's refitted brown Jedi Master robes, with double-bladed lightsabers on their belts.

Tab hadn't lied: he didn't know this Coruscant.

The planet was the homeworld of the human race, so it had been the most populated world in the Old Republic, but in this reality it was so much worse. Immaculate towers stretched impossibly far upward as if trying to get as much distance from Coruscant's underworld as possible. There was no trace of dust or dirt on the platform they were stepping on, and he suspected that an army of cleaning droids would descend upon it as soon as their party left for the Temple. Mace Windu, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan were waiting for them, looking perfectly calm. Tab wondered if they could teach him to be deaf to the screams he was hearing from below the ground.

He heard Revan's voice in his head. "This Dark Side shroud technique . . . it's impossible to tell, but it could be tied to here or Nar Shaddaa or any world bursting from overpopulation."

Dooku cocked his head to the right as if listening for a distant voice, and Tab didn't risk answering his friend. They had sparred and debated philosophy with Dooku often enough: the man was already developing a bond with both of them whether he knew it or not.

They walked across the platform and toward the receiving party. The artificial lights of the landing pad made the three Jedi look like Force Ghosts.

"I sense unease from you, Revan," said Qui-Gon. "Relax, you are under the protection of the Jedi."

Tab said, "It's not that. Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" asked Obi-Wan.

Revan said, "The heart of the planet, yelling its suffering into the void. Billions of souls crammed together, so that people up here can enjoy their open sky and gardens. It's sickening."

"Coruscant can get loud, but it's not nearly as bad as you describe." said Windu. "Now follow us."

Tab followed after Revan. He could see his friend unconsciously shift into a prowl Revan normally used when sneaking into enemy strongholds, and Tab barely kept himself from fingering his lightsaber. He got closer to Revan to make sure the sounds of the city would drain out what he was about to say.

Tab said, "Something is wrong here. A force-sensitive boulder could sense that Coruscant is built on misery and desire and power. Let me try something."

The Temple wasn't far. It was a white monstrosity that towered half a mile into the air and didn't at all resemble the Coruscant Temple they remembered. Tab closed his eyes and let the Force replace his sight like Visas had taught him when she had first opened up to him. He pushed away the wave or poignant caring and focused on the sounds of their steps. One-two, one-two, went the Jedi. Revan was slightly out of step, but the others were perfectly synchronized. He frowned and went deeper, looking at Obi-Wan as the youngest one and least likely to notice a probe.

The Padawan was strong in the Force—too powerful for that rank. He shone bright to Tab's senses, pure in his convictions and fierce in his desire to defend Qui-Gon from any attack. It was interesting but beside the point, so Tab went a bit farther.

There was a net of impossibly-thin crimson strands, woven into the very fabric of Obi-Wan's being. He saw that the Padawan's core tried to resist the net, but it was almost encased in it.

"Master, I feel strange," said Obi-Wan.

Panicking, Tab pulled back—he had no desire to explain this technique or how he knew it to the Jedi—and his consciousness tore at the net on the way out.

Obi-Wan howled and the Force responded with a cry of anguish of its own.

The Padawan gripped the sides of his head, and Tab saw crimson pour from under the fingers before Obi-Wan fell to the floor, writhing. Qui-Gon and Windu just stood there. Hadn't they felt the boy's pain?

This was his fault.

Tab rushed to the body and barely registered Revan stepping between him and the two Jedi. There was the snap-hiss of lightsabers. Tab placed his right palm on the boy's forehead and felt Obi-Wan's consciousness beat in agony. He realized his mistake then: Obi-Wan was perhaps even more sensitive to the tides of the Force than even Tab, but the boy lacked Tab's training. Kreia and Visas had taught Tab to hear only what he needed and discard everything else, but apparently Obi-Wan had never had to learn to silence the cacophony of the strings of fate and emotions of others. He heard Windu yell something and sensed Qui-Gon fall to his knees. He could see it now—the bond between Master and Padawan, especially strong in their case.

Tab cursed himself for his confidence that the Jedi in this world were inferior to him and Revan in every way.

He didn't have the time to be subtle, so he pulled at the Force in the space around him: both at the waves of tranquility coming from the Temple and the thrumming of passion beating in the levels of the city below him, and he used it to flood his nerves and muscles with energy. There was a flash of white pain as his diminished capacity protested, and he felt Revan shoulder some of the burden.

Revan's lightsaber clattered onto the ground. The world slowed down, and he dived into Obi-Wan's mind. It was a wreck: there were holes in the barrier that Jedi kept to protect himself, and the Force poured into them in a torrent of visions. It was as if they were deep underwater, and somebody had breached the walls of the submarine. Tab could see fragments: a queen, proud on her throne but so young; a boy naïve but intuitively knowing too much; a squad of Jedi on a battlefield, fighting against an army of droids . . . Tab pushed the images away. Even with the speed he had gained by pushing himself to the limit, he didn't have much time to fix Obi-Wan before the entire Temple woke up and got in the way.

He breathed willed Obi-Wan's inner world around him to obey.

"What are you doing?"

He could see the figure of the Padawan standing on a vortex of light across from him. That Obi-Wan was able to maintain enough of a presence of mind during this mess was in itself amazing.

"I broke your mental defenses, and the Force is pouring in," said Tab. "Let me help fix this."

"No, I mean, what are you doing here, Tabook Nashdar? What do you and Revan the Redeemed hope to accomplish?"

Tab focused on the boy, and he saw that only one of Obi-Wan's eyes was normal. The other was a swirl of azure and crimson, like Revan at his worst.

The world shook, and two more holes opened in the walls around them.

He said, "Look, you need to live, Obi-Wan. I have foreseen it. Help me open a channel, and I will fix this."

Tab had foreseen nothing, but it was the only way to talk to someone high on the Force. Obi-Wan stood still as the storm encroached upon his mind, before the Padawan finally nodded and raised both of his hands.

Tab sat on the glowing ground, and pulled at all the power he had available. A tentacle of energy twisted its way out of his stomach.

###

Shaak Ti was painting when she heard the song. She frowned and refocused on the rectangle of white, green, red, white, and blue that she was working on. The wind from the cranked-up ventilation caressed her skin as she carefully put the brush to the canvas and made on stroke of brilliant green. The movement of air reminded her of her homeworld, and she could almost smell the odor of a thousand grasses of all colors and heights, and of the animals roaming the endless expanse. As always, a deep feeling of loss came—not like the loss of a limb but like being the limb left behind. Shaak Ti breathed out and released the tangle of emotions into the Force. It felt a bit easier than the day before. She reached for a brush dipped in white.

A cord struck in the Force reverberated through her, discordant and loud, and it shattered her trance.

Shaak Ti blinked and looked at the painting. It wasn't even half done, and she had planned to paint for at least another hour before going to sleep. The alarm didn't sound, but she would be remiss in her duties as a Jedi Knight if she didn't check out what was wrong. With a sigh, she headed to the chrome locker in the corner, brushing her fingers against the row of potted plants occupying an entire wall of her private forty-five-square-foot rectangle.

There were layers to Jedi Knights robes—they weren't savages to wear them over bare skin, which was why she kept as little of herself covered as possible when in her quarters. For a Togruta, the feral side was never too far. She put on the white tunic and dark trousers, put her brown robe over it and tied it with a belt. She picked up her lightsaber and clipped it to her belt.

Carelessness got Jedi killed.

With a sigh, she rinsed the paint off her brushes and left her quarters.

Hooded lamps and many-colored crystals illuminated the hallways of the Temple at night, making it look like a magical castle out of some fairytale. In the shifting lights, the statues of Masters of Old seemed to move looking after her as she passed. You can relax, Masters, she thought. The Temple is as always.

It took her a minute to pinpoint the source of whatever had disturbed her. The call was coming from the Halls of Healing, and Shaak Ti quickened her pace when she realized that. Someone was hurt, and she knew she needed to be here.

She finally made it to one of the infirmaries. The door wasn't locked, and muffled voices were coming from the other side. She hesitated on the threshold for a moment, but she could hear the call stronger now. A clear note, broken by disharmonious riffs, like a band from a Coruscant underworld cantina having broken into an opera.

The Force had led her here. She would be fine.

Shaak Ti pushed the button to the right of the door, walked inside, and nearly jumped back out. Grandmaster Yoda was here and Master Windu and Master Qui-Gon—perhaps the three most famous Jedi of the Order, although for different reasons. Four beds with patients were in the middle of the room and Head Healer Vokara Che, a legendary Master in her own right, was busy with the scanning equipment.

"Knight Ti," said Grandmater Yoda. He didn't sound at all surprised.

"Master Che is trying to help them, Knight Ti," said Master Windu. "Now isn't the best time to come here." He narrowed his eyes. "In fact, this place is supposed to be empty at this time, so what are you doing here?"

Master Qui-Gon stayed silent, his gaze riveted to one of the prone figures on the beds. Shaak Ti recognized his apprentice, pale and sweating. The other figures looked a little better: Master Dooku and two men she couldn't place.

"I sensed something during my painting meditation, Masters. Like a harmony broken by screams. It led me here."

Master Windu looked like he wanted to question her further, but Grandmaster Yoda tapped his walking stick against the floor. "Time for this we have not. If the Force led Knight Ti here has, of some aid she might be. Coincidence this is not." He turned his gaze to the healer. "Master Che, troubled you look. What your assessment is?"

Master Che looked like she had been in deep sleep when she got woken up. The blue of her Twi'lek face was tinged with grey, and her lekku twitched in agitation, which she didn't seem to pay any mind. She shook her head.

"The patients aren't responsive, so Knight Ti may stay as long as she doesn't get in the way. I will remind you, Masters, that the Halls of Healing are my domain, not the High Council's. No offence, Grandmaster."

Yoda nodded. "This way it be should. Lives on you depend."

"Thank you, Grandmaster. Anyway, the patients don't seem to be hurt physically apart from an alarming degree of tension in the muscles that is probably a side-effect of whatever is wrong with the nervous system." She shook her head. "But I can't get through. I would expect this from Master Dooku—his mental defenses are formidable indeed—but even your Padawan, Master Jinn . . . it's like there is an ice wall around Padawan Kenobi's mind, and when I push, it seems to sprout blades. You have taught him well."

The frown on Qui-Gon's face grew deeper. He said, "I can sense my Padawan still, but much has changed. It doesn't feel dangerous, but it is alarming. He didn't have these defenses in the morning."

"Bloody hell, that hurt." Cam a deep voice, and one of the figures on the table stirred and sat up.

The man had been covered with a sheet, but now that he was up, his torso was open for display, and Shaak Ti averted her eyes. How this much muscle managed to stay on his bones and not look grotesque was beyond her.

The doors slid open and a familiar person burst in.

"Where is he?" asked Padawan Siri Tachi. "Is he alright?"

Tachi started to move toward Obi-Wan, but Shaak Ti held her back with an arm. "Calm yourself, Padawan," she said. "Master Che herself is treating your friend."

Meanwhile, Master Che had pushed the patient who had woken up back down. "You are in the Halls of Healing," she said. "Please don't move until I determine that it's safe for you to do so. Do you remember your name?"

"Revan," he said. "And I don't have a concussion, a tumor or brain damage." He looked around the room. "What the hell is this, a zoo?"

Master Che said, "These are Grandmaster Yoda, Knight Ti, and Padawan Tachi. I believe you have met Master Jinn and Master Windu."

"And you are?" asked Revan and smiled with a raised eyebrow.

It took Shaak Ti a moment to place that kind of smile as it almost never happened in the Temple. He was flirting! The man had the audacity to flirt with his healer and with Vokara Che at that. There is definitely something wrong with his head, she thought.

"Enough," said Master Windu. "A Padawan and a Master of our Order are hurt because of you. You will explain what happened, and you will do so now."

"Master Windu," said Master Che. "Do not threaten my patients."

Her voice was completely calm, and yet Master Windu backed down. Outside of a couple High Council meetings she had attended, Shaak Ti had never seen the senior Jedi of her Order together, and it was fascinating.

Revan sighed and stared at the ceiling. "Boy, did Tab manage to screw up . . ."

And he told them. Of how wrong Coruscant felt to the senses of him and his friend when they landed, of how they noticed the other Jedi didn't seem to notice a trillion people around them, most living in poor conditions and full of emotion.

He was saying, ". . . we have been taught far away from here, and shared a Master—her name is none of your business—who could see with the Force so well that her eyes had atrophied. So we are sensitive to this sort of thing, and Tab is much better than me. Looks like something affects everyone here, so he couldn't outright talk to you about it. Must have tried to examine Obi-Wan. The kid probably sensed it and panicked, and Tab broke his barriers by accident." Revan looked at Master Jinn. "You Padawan, does he have visions from the Force?"

Master Jinn nodded, "Several times now. Obi-Wan is very talented."

Revan continued, "Visions must have flooded poor chap's skull, and Tab pulled on everything he had to seal the breaches. Knocked himself out in the process, and it echoed to me, and, to a lesser degree, Master Dooku."

Shaak Ti frowned. "Why not to the others?"

Revan shrugged. "Tab doesn't know the others. I know he pulled on my presence for support, and I just gave him what he needed, and my lights went out before I hit the ground. Perhaps he reached to Master Dooku too, or the man might have looked at the process at a bad time. Mind-healing is a tricky business, so you'll need to ask the two of them when they wake up. Anyway, everyone will be alright after eight hours of sleep or so. Now, where is my stuff?" Revan shook his arms and legs and stretched experimentally. Smiling, he said, "And that's how much you are going to get. Leave a room for me, will you? I'm going out."

The healer bristled. "You can't leave yet! There are still examinations to be done."

Master Windu moved forward, right hand on his lightsaber. "You aren't going anywhere."

Revan got up and just stood there, silent, smiling at Grandmaster Yoda. Yoda nodded and said, "No grounds him to keep have we. For his friend come back he will. A day matters not, and deliberate we must before to the High Council we this bring."

Revan's smile grew wider. "I like you so much more than Vandar," he said. "Can I have my stuff now?"

As Master Che went to the lockers in the corner, Qui-Gon walked up to his Padawan and moved Obi-Wan's braid over his right shoulder. Revan deflated somewhat at the sight. "Hey," he said. "He'll be alright. Tab knows what he is doing. You can have your healer check his work as long as she is careful."

Qui-Gon nodded without looking away from Obi-Wan.

Padawan Tachi got conscripted to make sure Revan didn't get lost in the building, accidentally or on purpose. Shaak Ti stayed, seemingly forgotten in the mess, but she knew better. She had never seen Grandmaster Yoga forget anything.

All of them stood in the dim light, looking apprehensive, but all she could do was stare at the unmoving man on the hospital bed. There was something familiar about how he felt, although she was sure she had never met him before. There is no emotion, there is peace, she thought.

"We should track him," said Master Windu. "Who knows what this Revan person will get up to, if that even is his real name. A rogue Force User on Coruscant could be devastating to our reputation. I will take a team."

He moved to walk out of the room, but Grandmaster Yoda slammed his stick onto the floor. "No. Attention attract the other Jedi and you will. Give him a day, we shall. Meanwhile, find someone who discretely watch him can."

Master WIndu huffed and marched out without saying anything. Grandmaster Yoda turned to her, "Knight Ti." She rarely dealt with the Grandmaster, and definitely not this close. She could feel serenity roll off him in waves. "First watch will you and Padawan Tachi take. In eight hours replace you others will."

"Of course, Grandmaster."

Yoda chuckled and walked out of the room, his stick tapping lightly on the floor.

Master Che yawned and said, "I'm going back to bed. Call me if anything goes wrong."

###

Yoda and Windu left, and Qui-Gon was left with his Padawan and Shaak Ti—a Jedi Knight he had met once or twice before. He bent to Obi-Wan and said, "I'm sorry."

Despite Revan's words, he knew there was something wrong with his pupil. Obi-Wan might have been brash, but Qui-Gon had always been able to lean upon the intuitive grasp of the Light Side that Obi-Wan had possessed even as a boy. It had always sounded like a song echoing through the bond they shared as Master and Padawan: sometimes impatient but always hopeful. He could still hear it now, but it was accompanied by vibrations like multiple contained earthquakes trying to break into Obi-Wan's mind.

He needed to talk to Tab. Or, as Tab was unconscious, Revan.

"Knight Ti, could you look after my Padawan for a while?"

"Of course, Master Jinn."

"When Padawan Tachi gets here, you could play some sabacc."

"Master!"

Qui-Gon chuckled as he left the room. The young ones were always so easy to rile up. Somehow they got it into their heads that life in the Light should be devoid of fun. Of course, the older Jedi weren't much better, and some of the more stuck-up Masters could actually try to lecture him, which was why Qui-Gon stuck to trying to teach young Knights and Padawans about using their hands instead of quoting the Code before they became Masters and all hope was lost.

He had given Revan a about a two-minute start, but he had spent enough time near the man in the Halls of Healing that he could still sense him at the edge of his perception, slowly becoming camouflaged by the backdrop of Coruscant and everyone who lived here.

As he hurried after Revan he realized just how different he felt from the other Jedi, including his more sensible friend. There hadn't been that many of them on the mission where they had met, so it had been easier to ignore, but here in the Temple all manner of Jedi lived, and each one understood the Code and their path a little differently, but they all had in common that core of Temple teachings. Well, Grandmaster Yoda was different, but even he was more like a pure embodiment of what they all aspired to be and not something altogether alien. Revan wasn't like that.

Coruscant's many-layered ecumenopolis was built around support towers, each a thousand feet in diameter and made of durasteel and the most durable plastics that humanity had been able to produce. Water, air, and electricity flowed up and down these pillars, sustaining blocks that surrounded them on each of the levels. It was toward one of such supports that Revan was heading to.

Qui-Gon breathed in and out and did it again and again. With each breath, his presence in the Force grew smaller, until he became less of a speck than a normal human, than a dog, than a fly. The world grew dimmer, but the figure of Revan remained in focus. Few in the order had the precision and control that he had when it came to sensing other living beings and masking himself, and Qui-Gon intended to take full advantage of that to learn what Revan was up to before he confronted the man.

The column went some way above this topmost level of the city to where it could get whatever extra non-recycled air it needed without sucking some poor soul into it. A human technician was arguing with a Mon Calamari near a technician's booth at the foot of the structure. Both were wearing the city maintenance personnel uniforms. Revan walked up to them, and Qui-Gon creeped nearer, hiding crouching behind a railing on a catwalk. He focused his hearing.

"Power-line . . . defunct . . . crew . . . only tomorrow . . ." the technicians were saying.

". . . Jedi . . . can help . . . reward . . ." said Revan.

The wind carried only fragments of a conversation to him, but Qui-Gon could hear enough. Eventually, the technicians passed Revan a tool belt and something hefty and glowing, and Revan headed for a service elevator. Qui-Gon hurried to the other side of the column and unlocked the second elevator with his pass. Thankfully, these were for maintenance, and he could see the position of Revan's elevator on a display. Level 5127—the very top.

All he needed was not to fall too far behind, so as soon as the other elevator began moving, Qui-Gon tapped the number 3000 on the datapad and pushed the start button. Even with inertia cancellation, He found himself weighing about half as much as usual as the machine hurtled him into the depths of the planet, far away from light and fresh air. His elevator began to slow down near level 3100, but Revan's didn't. Cursing, Qui-Gon flicked the list of levels on the datapad and tapped the lowest one. He could always come up. The elevator sped back up.

Down they went, he about two hundred levels behind Revan, without ever slowing down. He frowned. Maintenance elevators went lower than usual commuter trains and elevators, just in case something still necessary would malfunction and threaten the upper levels. Normally anything that broke here affected only the citizens of the underworld, so nobody bothered with repairs—the criminals and outcasts living down here handled their survival themselves. There was no way the technicians sent Revan this deep.

He arrived some seconds after Revan and decided it was far enough. Qui-Gon ran moved around the tower. Around him was rusted steel and the floor of this level itself was warped and ridden with holes big enough for the entire Jedi Temple to fall through. Something skittered in the darkness, and one failing lamp flickered in the dark, half obscured by a viscous dark-green liquid dripping on it form the ceiling. Qui-Gon shivered: he had never been this far under the Temple.

Revan was standing at the top of the platform, staring down into the darkness.

"Revan!" he called out.

The other Jedi turned toward him, and Qui-Gon could swear that his eyes were glowing. "Isn't this great?" Revan asked. "It's been so long since Tab wasn't near to stop me."

His grin would be disturbing on the face of an overeager teenager, not to mention a Jedi. Qui-Gon raised his hands. "Listen," he said. "I just want to know what happened to my Padawan."

Revan's grin grew even wider. "Sure," he said. "Catch me then."

And Revan switched on a flashlight on his belt and somersaulted backward and off the edge. Qui-Gon ran to it, and looked down turning his own light on. Pitch-black greeted him: the drop was at least ten more levels. The idiot is going to get himself killed, he thought. Cursing the day he was having, he jumped down.

###

Tabook dreamed of being suspended in a kolto tank—that gap of darkness that came before his rebirth. Any moment now, Kreia would call him, he would wake up on Endar's Spire, and they would start their journey against the Sith Lords.

"Hey, he's twitching. Can you hear me?"

That didn't sound like Kreia. Tab pulled his mind from where it flowed along the current of the Force, and tried to open his eyes. It didn't go well.

The headache could have come from a lightsaber being pushed into his skull, and his body was so tense that he thought for a moment he was under the effects of a Stasis Power.

"Should we call the healer?" Came another voice. "We should probably call the healer."

He made an effort and waved his right hand in dismissal or tried to. He didn't need a healer, he needed . . . where the hell was Revan? Tab reached out with his senses and sensed a rush of glee and heard the whoosh of air from his friend. He pulled back. Where there swoop bikes on this Coruscant? He hoped not.

By now, the white above him shifted to pale-blue. The morning sun shone its orange rays through a window that took up one of the walls, and there was a radiant Torguta girl looking down at him from so close that he could kiss her if he leaned up. She was lucky he wasn't Revan—outside of crises, his friend had the impulse control of a thirteen-year-old.

"Is there something on my face?" he tried to say.

"Irkh sherr—" Was as far as he got before he went for a quitter voice. "Water." He managed.

"Yes, yes, of course."

She disappeared for a second and came back with a glass that he tried to pick up but his arms barely moved.

"Erm," she said looking flummoxed, and then moved to help him drink the water.

He thought they had broken the Jedi out of all this awkwardness crap. Then he remembered that this wasn't his world, and he was probably in the Jedi Temple, and he had nearly fried a kid's brain today, and had it been even today, and, most importantly, he was going to kill Revan when he found him. Tab nodded his thanks and groaned as he focused whatever little of his reserves were available after his latest stunt and began untightening his muscles and clearing toxins out of his system.

The Force came easily to him here with this many Jedi around him.

"We are supposed to tell Master Che if something changes," said someone.

Tabook rose his head a little, and saw a human Padawan girl a perky nose, a stubborn jaw, and hair barely reaching below her ears. She stifled a yawn, and he smiled.

"Looks to me like everyone could use a bit of rest, Padawan," he said. "I am a bit of a healer myself, so trust me when I say I'm in no danger. Why don't you let whoever is treating me sleep?"

The Padawan looked at the Knight and Shaak Ti nodded. Tab let himself relax a little more. He raised his now recovered right arm and wiggled his fingers. It seemed like his muscles were slow to react, and his fingers also were slightly numb. He turned his head to the right and looked at the unconscious forms of Obi-Wan and Dooku. He sighed.

Shaak Ti was still standing by his side, so he said, "Get a chair, will you? I feel like I need to stand too when I look at you."

She did, and this lowered her eyes almost to his level. She said, "This is Padawan Tachi. Padawan Kenobi is her friend."

Tab grimaced. "Figures. Obi-Wan will be fine. It was just a series of mishaps and one stupid decision on my part, but he should wake up . . ." He focused on the bond he had crafted with the boy. ". . . in one or two hours. Master Dooku is in similar condition." Tab found a button on the side of his bed and used it to raise himself into a half-sitting position. "It must have scared you, Padawan Tachi."

"There is no fear," replied Tachi.

He just shook his head. Oh, the naiveté of the Jedi order. "What about you?" he asked Shaak Ti. "Are you here as a guard?"

"It would be foolish to leave an unknown Force Sensitive unattended, so Master Windu arranged a watch. I'm sorry, but until the High Council determines you are safe, you need to stay with us."

Tab chuckled to himself and looked around. His clothes were folded some ten feet away. The healer hadn't taken his pants off, so he threw off the blanket, walked to the robes, and began putting the whole ensemble on. There was something ritualistic and calming about tall he buttons and belts that needed to be fastened. The room had gotten silent, so he looked up and found Tachi looking away while Ti watched him, the contrast between red and white on her skin sharper than before.

Oh, he was going to love this. In their world, there had been barely any Jedi by the time he and Revan kicked the Sith Lords' butts. Some were able to hide from the Sith, and some G0-T0 saved by kidnapping and imprisoning them—something they had a talk with the droid about after finding out—but mostly Tab and Revan had to help the Jedi rebuild while melding their own group with both the Jedi and the Sith to create something less hypocritical and stupid than the original two philosophies. And back when he had been a Jedi Knight before the Mandalorian Wars, Tabook Nashdar had been all Code and no fun.

Tab tied the sash and laughed when he heard Ti breathe out in what he assumed was relief.

"It's safe to look, Padawan Tachi," he said, still smiling.

The Padawan turned to him. Her cheeks were red. "What kind of a Jedi are you?" she asked.

"The fun one. Then again, you have met my friend Revan, so maybe I'm the sensible one. Anyway, you girls know how to play pazaak? No? Well, don't be shy, I'll teach you."

###

There was a tingle of fear at the back of Qui-Gon's neck, and normally he would have released the emotion into the Force, but he was too busy ignoring the smell of rot on the wind blowing into his face. The cone of his light plucked out something rectangular with sharp edges, and he barely had the time to twist in the air and get away from it with a Force push. On some level, he realized that this wasn't the Jedi way, yet adrenaline flooding his system seemed to slow down time and every obstacle he avoided brought a rush of joy he hadn't felt since he had first begun exploring the possibilities that the Force opened.

The debris became denser, and he ignited his lightsaber, switched off the light, and closed his eyes. He felt the path that Revan was paving before him, parkouring between gaps and making them where needed with his double-bladed lightsaber. The man was insane, Qui-Gon realized. Even the worst of the gangs had no business being this close to the surface.

If he felt alive in controlled freefall, then Revan was ecstatic. Qui-Gon could feel waves of glee rolling off the man, and once in a couple seconds heard a "Woo-hoo!" somewhere below him. Yet he sensed no anger or pride.

He dodged a piece of a lamppost that Revan had cut through on the way down and then found there was barely any open space under him. Without thinking or opening his eyes, Qui-Gon blasted his way toward the nearest wall, and thrust the blade of his lightsaber into it, holding on with both of his hands. It cut through the ancient metal without too much trouble, but the deceleration nearly tore his arms out of their sockets. Pulling at all of the energy his descent had generated, he pulled the lightsaber out, wrapped the Force around him and landed, blasting pieces of broken plastic and glass all around him.

Now he could open his eyes and switch the light back on.

Revan was standing nearby, and he had thrown two glow sticks he must have got from Dooku's ship on the floor. He was looking at Qui-Gon with an expression the Master couldn't place.

"Man," Revan said. "I was joking. You could have just waited at the Temple. This is dangerous."

Qui-Gon brushed dust off his robes in slow, deliberate motions. He said, "Please. I've been through worse falls as a Padawan."

Revan bent over and laughed, and the sound echoed off the durasteel arches that were all around them. "Oh," he said, "this is precious. I didn't mean falling, I meant getting back up. You do realize that we are five hundred levels down from the maintenance elevator's lowest stop? I came down here to train and maybe blow off some steam after the crapTab pulled, but whatever the hell possessed you to follow? Your Padawan will wake up long before we make it out of here."

Qui-Gon took a look around. Unlike most other abandoned levels, this one didn't have any remains of buildings. The ground was solid metal, and enormous beams stretched up beyond the light the glowsticks provided. Remains of power cables were all over the ground.

"We have made it to the bottom," Qui-Gon said. "I never thought . . ."

"Yeah. Cool, right?" Revan kicked something brown and warped, and it exploded into a cloud of brown dust. "Damn, I was hoping for some ground. But this place at least sounds promising."

He had expected silence this deep—maybe the buzzing of a distant power line. But the bottom of Coruscant was far from silent. There was skittering, and squaking, and something that sounded like steel claws dragging over glass in the distance.

"Looks like we disturbed the nest," said Revan, looking inappropriately happy.

End of Chapter Notes

Hello, everyone, it's been a while. At least this is coming out only two weeks after the update to The Broken Creed, and I feel like writing more fanfiction these days.

Some good did come from this break. For me, every story hits a point where it gets hard to write more without fleshing out the characters and the setting a bit in the background, and I felt that way about Tab and Revan before writing this chapter, so I explored them a bit in my notes, and hopefully this keeps them from turning into cardboard. Coruscant also got some love. I mean, how does a world like that even function? Can you imagine a trillion sentient beings holed up on one tiny globe? How much trade it must take to get the food there and what kind of waste treatment facilities are needed? Are there levels and levels of hydroponics with artificial light? You can literally hide a thousand crime syndicates in the bowels of the lower levels and no one will notice.

By the way, if you know any of this stuff from canon and remember the sources, you writing it in a review or a PM would really help me, because I don't remember any technology in the movies or the KoTOR games that would magically solve the problems of hunger and waste. I am basing a lot of Tab and Revan's experiences on Coruscant on it having major problems with dilapidated infrastructure and food and goods distribution, so knowledge beyond what's written on the wiki is welcome. Just know that I focus on characters and story here and not on fully canon worldbuilding, so I will twist canon it can make a better story without breaking atmosphere.

In other news, I watched a video this week that explores just how much was cut from KoTOR 2 by the publisher because of time constraints. It is ridiculous. There was a droid planet we never got to see, you could redeem Kreia and fight Atris instead, and your team actually assaulted the Sith Academy on Malachor along with you giving you moral choices and stuff (push on or try to save your friends). You can search Youtube for something like "KoTOR 2 cut content" if you are interested—it's fascinating stuff.

Stay shiny and until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes

Hi, everyone. Time for more Coruscant goodness.

Full notes are at the end of the chapter—I have news about updates and stuff.

Let's dive right in.

Chapter 5

"I must go after him!"

The Grandmaster thumped his walking stick on the floor. "Control yourself you will, Padawan Kenobi. Responsible for your Master you are not."

Tabook didn't pay the conversation much attention. Both Kenobi and Dooku had woken up, and then Head Healer Vokara Che had come in, shortly followed by the Grandmaster of this galaxy's Jedi Order. Tabook couldn't wait for the fuss to be over so that he could go and explore. They probably wouldn't let him into the archives . . . if only he had better control of the Force or had a workbench and the components to build a stealth field generator . . . although building stuff out of junk was more Revan's speed.

"But Qui-Gon may be in danger," said Kenobi.

It didn't look like the kid knew how to give up, and the conversation wasn't going anywhere. To be fair, Tabook was pleasantly surprised that the Grandmaster hadn't told the Padawan yet to release his worry into the Force and go meditate for a day or two.

"Padawan Kenobi," said Tab, "your Master will be fine. I know Revan doesn't look like it, but he is great at keeping other people safe. They'll come back soon."

Tab decided not to mention that the last time Revan had gone off on his own, Tab found him at a fight club wrestling with a Sith assassin, wasted and naked. He could only hope his friend had enough sense not to pull any of his usual extreme shit in a new galaxy,

Yoda narrowed his eyes at him. "Tell the truth you do. Whole truth it is not."

Damn diminutive spooks. One day, Tab would discover where the tiny green beasts came from. Perhaps he could just ask Yoda about his race? Nah, it couldn't be that simple or else everybody would know.

"Look," he said. "Revan's idea of entertainment usually involves something adrenaline-seeking. But they'll be fine: he knows when it's best to retreat. You have nothing to worry about." He turned to Vokara Che who was running scan on him. "Can I go, Master Che?"

The woman's brusque manner reminded him of Kreia somewhat, and it was enough to keep him even more polite than usual. Vokara Che looked up from her instruments, put them away, and ran her hands over Tab's body, keeping a couple inches away from his skin. He felt the Force probing at him, so he subtly activated Force Drain to swallow any feedback his body could give her.

"I don't appreciate people groping my Force signature, Master," he said. "I'm afraid we don't know each other nearly well enough."

Vokara Che flinched. "There is something strange about the way your body interacts with the Force, mister Nashdar," she said. "I am simply trying to determine if it's a result of the accident or something that is natural for you."

Tab said, "You could have just asked. What you sense is none of your concern: it's been that way since my first days as a Padawan. And I'm a decent healer myself, Master Che. I assure you I can be released into the wild. May I suggest you look Padawan Kenobi and Master Dooku over instead? They still seem a little disoriented."

"That won't be necessary," said Dooku. "Nothing hurts."

Vokara Che said, "Let me look you and Padawan Kenobi over, Master. You seem more energetic than at your last check-up, and we should make sure you didn't catch anything."

"Great." Tab jumped off his cot. "Grandmaster Yoda, will you mind if I wander around for a while? Until Revan comes back. I promise not to leave the Enclave."

"Temple, you mean must."

"Yes, Temple, of course."

Tab gave himself a mental kick. The ancient Master Vandar Tokare had been of Yoda's people and he had unnerved Tabook immensely back during his apprenticeship, though he had met Tokare only a couple times. Yoda reminded him of the wizened Jedi, and Tab sensed the same calm in him that he had met in very few practitioners of Light Side teachings—ones who had embraced tranquility instead of using the Force to flee from their less-than-perfect nature. These Jedi were a living reminder that the traditional Jedi way, even if it was often impotent, was a viable path to inner peace.

If it hadn't failed so many, he and Revan might have never had to develop the Maelstrom.

So he smiled and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. Yoda looked him in the eyes and furrowed his brow, but eventually the Grandmaster nodded. He said, "Keep you here, no reason I have. By sleeping gained is nothing. Knight Ti your guide will be."

"Grandmaster?" Knight Ti looked puzzled. "I was supposed to get a mission this afternoon."

"In your place another go shall. To learn from an independent disciple of the Force—rare chance this is. Report your findings to the High Council you will."

###

The problem with getting back up was that they couldn't fly.

Qui-Gon echoed Revan's thoughts, "This level wasn't built for people to live here."

They had passed four ramps blocked by tons of broken machinery, plastic blocks, and steel beams. There were no houses, no writings on the supports, and the only light came from the two men.

Revan felt a shudder in the Force and whipped around igniting his lightsaber during the swing. The Echani had taught him this particular trick. They called it iai—combining the drawing of the blade with the strike.

Something slimy, six-legged and four-eyed was mid-lunge. Revan slashed, and his golden lightsaber lopped the beast's head clean off. He rolled to the left and out of the way of the ichor that spewed from the neck in dark-green gouts.

"It's as big as a swoop bike," said Qui-Gon. "This is what, the fifth time we have been attacked? Coming here was beyond foolish."

Revan said, "Admit it, you are having fun."

They had a pack of rations and a flask of water each, which was great, because Revan didn't think foraging would go well. His knowledge of galactic wildlife was extensive, but everything they had met and killed was mutated to the point where he couldn't recognize the species anymore. There had been these things that looked like gizka, but they were deep-blue and had tentacles instead of front paws, and those were covered in suction pods oozing black liquid.

The only plant life down here (if that counted) was rusty lichen covering some of the support beams. What it sustained itself on was beyond his grasp of biology.

"I think I see a ramp up," said Qui-Gon and smiled. "We should be able to find a working elevator. In fifty levels or so."

Qui-Gon was looking at him with disapproval, but as far as Revan was concerned, the other man had chosen to follow him of his own free will, so he had little to complain about.

Revan could feel something alive up there, something singular, big, and hungry, but the signature was masked by all the emotional pollution of Coruscant. He could see that Qui-Gon looked nervous too, and this raised questions. From what he had seen from Qui-Gon and Dooku, the Jedi of this galaxy saw plenty of combat—definitely more than most of pre-Mandalorian Jedi back in his galaxy. Or maybe they were the exception? He needed to get back up to the Temple and go through the archives to be sure.

The steel under their feet vibrated, and the presence grew more distinct and familiar. A roar echoed off the supports around them, reverberating in the emptiness with primal fury. Silence came after that: all other animals had evidently decided to bugger off in the face of a superior predator.

"Rancors suck," Revan said.

###

Shaak had to admit she was excited to meet a Jedi who hadn't been trained at the Temple—this much she had gleaned from Tabook's words. She would have protested being a babysitter otherwise.

They were wandering the halls. She had suggested they let chance guide them for a while.

"I can't imagine growing up anywhere else," she said. "Where did you learn, mister Nashdar?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head. She didn't know what kind of address he was expecting: he hadn't given them a title, after all.

"Please, call me Tabook," he said. She started to protest but he interrupted her. "At least until the High Council talks to me and Revan."

She inclined her head in agreement, and he smiled. He said, "Me and Revan had the same Master. As to where we learned . . . wherever we could, I guess. My Master believed in independence. She believed that power should come from the inside and not from the Force."

Shaak furrowed her brows. "That doesn't make any sense."

Tabook shrugged. "I don't fully agree with her. But what is important is that she taught me to learn from non-Force Sensitives. They face the same challenges and temptations that we do, and yet many manage to become decent, balanced people. And they don't have the shortcut of releasing their emotions into the Force or of using the meditation techniques available to us."

Shaak said, "They don't have to deal with feedback from the Force either."

"True. But feedback only comes into play when you can't keep yourself in balance." He stopped in the middle of the hall. "Anyway, me and Revan, we learned on spaceships, on Nar Shaddaa and Kashyyk, on Tattoine and Telos. We travelled a lot, and there was always something new to do."

She sensed some pain from him and was tempted to tell him to let go of it, but she wasn't his Master. She said, "My condolences on your Master's death. I know I will lose mine one day, but you are so young."

He stared at her for a moment before chuckling.

"I don't see what's funny."

"Sorry, I just imagined her being here and hearing you say that. You would have gotten a lecture about pitying someone and how that is a waste of an experience. She turned everything into a lesson for us, and even her death was like that. Besides, I don't know who was more of a Master near the end."

"You are a strange Jedi, Tabook, you know that?"

He smiled. "Yes, I hear that often enough. Still, I insist that Revan is stranger. So, what is your favorite room in this monstrosity?" When she stared, he added, "What? You don't find it weird that you live and work in a single building that goes like a mile up? A free spirit like you is meant to have the world, and you are holed up here. Don't you feel most alive when out there on a mission?"

That tightening in her chest she felt near him was simple discomfort, she decided. The Jedi weren't a religious order at their core, so she couldn't call Tabook a heretic and be done with it, but his perspective unsettled her. The Temple was where they belonged, and they went out into the galaxy only because their help was needed, and nobody else could do the work of ambassadors and sometimes infiltrators as well as Jedi did it. And yet he was right. Tracking a pride of predators across purple plains under a red sun, slipping through the cracks of the criminal underbelly of Nar Shaddaa, rooting out spies of the gangs of criminals on upper levels of Coruscant—all of it was so much more than what she could experience by living in the Temple, as large as it was.

"Let's go to where the younglings take their art lessons," she said.

They took an elevator and went down fifteen levels and then walked for a while before they got to a small balcony overlooking a room. Fifteen young ones of all races were in front of easels, and a waterfall rustled into a pool at the head of the room. They were painting it with watercolors.

"This was my favorite lesson back when I was their age," she said.

Tabook leaned on the guard rail and watched the children in silence for a while. Then he turned to her, and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were whirlpools of purple: red encased in blue. Light swirled in him, she felt: there was passion and serenity, and he just let pass them through him.

He shuddered, blinked, and the colors were gone.

"Sorry, Shaak," he said, his voice soft. "It's just that I never had what these kids can take for granted."

"What in the name of the Force was that?" she asked.

He just smiled. "Something you best pretend you didn't see, Knight Ti. At least not until you know exactly what it is." He gestured to the children. "Could you teach me? Painting, I mean."

Shaak was sheltered, but she wasn't dumb. By now she was suspecting that Tabook was coming on to her. The fact itself was nothing new: many found Togrutas exciting and exotic. What was new was that he was a Force User, and also how he did it. Nobody had bothered to pretend like they were interested in her hobbies. And anyway, there was something strange about how the Force warped around him, and she had been tasked by the Grandmaster himself to find out as much as possible about him.

"Sure," she said. "I assume you don't want a public room?"

Tabook shook his head. "I've never tried painting. I wouldn't subject innocent bystanders to how bad I probably am."

She nodded. "Let's go to my quarters then."

On the way there, her lightsaber was a comforting weight on her right hip.

###

The beast was covered in electric burns, and one of its eyes was gone. There was little light, but Qui-Gon was sure that it was a heavy blaster shot that had blinded it. On one of its legs there was a durasteel manacle and three links of heavy chain hung off it, the fourth one twisted and gnawed off. The rancor swayed on its feet but didn't move, staring at their ignited lightsabers. Revan's gold cast the man's face in a warm light, and Qui-Gon was surprised that the other Jedi didn't run headlong into battle.

The rancor roared again, quieter this time.

"Can't everyone just leave the poor bastards alone?" asked Revan. "I mean, they live on Dathomir and mind their own business, but every pirate and two-bit crime-lord who wants a guard dog goes to the surface and takes one."

The rancor lumbered a step forward, and Qui-Gon saw the ribs jutting out through the skin. Massive forelimbs scarped the floor, and it whimpered quietly with every movement.

"It's starving," said Qui-Gon. "Somebody has put it here, and it doesn't have enough animals to hunt."

Revan nodded and sighed. He said, "I fought these things before. They are fast and dangerous, and the best way to get past them is to feed them a meal filled with grenades. The hide is a bitch to cut through. Whatever you do, don't get bitten."

Qui-Gon nodded and dashed toward the beast, relying on the chaotic dashes of Ataru to keep him safe. He moved for the monster's leg and tried to cut at it when the Force screamed at him, and he switched his charge into a roll and his blade slashed in an arc above his head.

The rancor was much nimbler than he had expected. It leaned over him and swiped down with its enormous white paw, claws as long as his hand. His lightsaber stopped it from bearing down on his head as he forced the beast change its momentum, but the next moment he felt a sharp pain along his right arm, that was soon silenced by a flood of adrenaline. He was knocked off his feet and had to extinguish his lightsaber and roll over his left shoulder to regain his footing.

"A distraction would be welcome!" he said.

He saw Revan move. Qui-Gon hadn't paid much attention to him during the fight with the Geonosians, seeing as his Padawan was on the verge of death. Now there was blood dripping off his arm and onto the floor, but there was something about the way Revan fought that still drew his eye.

Revan was rushing the rancor at a full run, and yet Qui-Gon could barely hear his footsteps over the heavy breathing of the rancor. Fifteen feet from the animal, Revan crouched and then sprung up into a leap, lightsaber swinging at the enemy's head. Getting caught in the air was dumb, and evidently the rancor thought so too as it thrust its left paw forward, waiting for Revan to get impaled upon its claws.

But just as Revan was about to be pierced, he took off his left hand off the lightsaber's handle, angled it down and set a Force Push toward the ground, giving him and extra foot of height. He cleared the claws with inches to spare and flipped up and onto the rancor's left shoulder, his golden lightsaber already mid-swing. Before the beast could realize what happened, Revan cut two swaths into its hide and jumped off it and onto the opposite side.

The rancor roared, and Qui-Gon was buffeted by the stench of meat rotting between its teeth. On its home planet of Dathomir, rancors had symbiotes that took care of the great reptiles' hygiene, but here, deep in the bowels of Coruscant, there was nothing to keep it clean. Qui-Gon focused on the Force, the rush of adrenaline, and the beating of his own heart. His vision shrunk around the rancor, he bent down, and dashed between its legs, swiping at them with his lightsaber and cutting through blaster-resistant hide. He must have hit an artery, because blood began to pour out of cauterized wounds in crimson gouts.

It didn't look like the animal was paying him any attention. It was fully focused on Revan, pinpricks of its eyes focused on the one who had caused it the most pain.

Revan laughed like he had just heard a hilarious joke. "You don't like it?" he said. "Then come get me."

With his double-bladed lightsaber, the other Jedi had greater reach than Qui-Gon, but the rancor had greater reach still. Revan leapt at it again, but the rancor didn't swipe at him this time, waiting for the Jedi to come closer. Revan barely penetrated the skin of its forearms before the rancor slammed both of its enormous paws around the Jedi, grabbing Revan in the air and pinning his arms to his sides. He had tried to get out of the way with another Force Push, but the beast had been waiting this time.

Since both of the rancor's arms were occupied, Qui-Gon jumped and slashed at its back, but the rancor fell forward, landing on Revan with its entire one and a half ton weight. Qui-Gon cut through flesh, but its spine was safe. Revan cried out in pain, and a blade of gold burst out from the beast's back below its right shoulder blade. It shuddered, but didn't let go.

Qui-Gon aimed and swung, putting all of his weight behind his strike. He severed the spine and cut clean through the foot-thick neck.

The next moment an explosion of Force, fueled with pain and excitement, burst from under the rancor's corpse, and Revan slipped from under it in the moment its body lifted off the floor.

Qui-Gon switched off his lightsaber, pulled out a medkit and began cleaning and sealing the wound on his right arm.

"Well, that was fun," said Revan. "I bet we can find whoever put this thing here somewhere nearby. We need to have a conversation about the contraband of dangerous predators."

###

Tabook watched Shaak Ti paint a sunrise. She used red and yellow and pink and violet, and the result looked like an explosion over the horizon. He could imagine a triumphant song begin playing as the planet began a new day. She had sketched two moons in the dark sky but hadn't started working on them yet. She looked odd in her Jedi Robes in this apartment, but he hadn't seen any other clothes.

She looked as if she had forgotten about his presence, and he watched tension ebb away from her shoulders. A slight smile blossomed on her face revealing a hint of canine teeth. With an effort, he made himself look at the picture instead of the girl.

He didn't like what he was doing. Under different circumstances, he would have preferred to run a few missions with Shaak Ti, let her know him a bit better and wait for her to make the first move. Jedi were the most repressed people in the galaxy, but their self-control was like a dam holding back every bit of feeling they had ever denied. It was much better to let cracks build naturally rather than take a sledgehammer to the concrete. But he and Revan needed allies and resources, and Shaak Ti was powerful enough to be of help. And he could feel the yearning for company and freedom in her, and it made her vulnerable.

He hated taking advantage of vulnerabilities when he wasn't fighting.

Shaak Ti stopped, frowned, and turned to him. "I feel your confusion," she said. "Calm yourself, Tabook, nobody expects you to be this good when painting your first picture. Today we will simply focus on relaxation. Does your home planet have rain often?"

Tabook had seen rain all the time while growing up with the Jedi. He said, "One or two times a week."

"Good, then we will start by painting rain. Here, let me prepare a canvas for you." She took her painting off the easel, took a sheet of paper and pinned it to the wooden block that served as a back plate for stretching paper and fabric over it. "This paper absorbs water well, which is just what we need as you will be painting with ink."

She took a black bar, a grey stone, and a tiny plate. Shaak Ti rubbed the bar with the stone over the plate, sanding some black powder onto it. Then she added three drops of water and mixed the ink.

###

They had gone up ten levels from the planet's surface with only minor scuffles with wildlife that wanted to eat them. Revan was getting used to fighting alongside Qui-Gon, and with every slash of his lightsaber he felt more relaxed. He hadn't realized how much tension getting cut off from his friends had created. The link to Bastilla and others was still there, so he at least new they were alive, but Tabook and a Temple full of stuck up Jedi weren't a proper substitute.

But Qui-Gon wasn't your average constipated holier-than-though suicide Force User. In fact, he didn't start philosophical debates at all and only asked questions to make sure his Padawan was alright.

"He is probably up by now," said Revan. "Fending off that girl that has a crush on him."

Qui-Gon's face softened. "Padawan Tachi is one of the more promising Jedi. In time, romantic feelings between them will fade, and their friendship will last throughout their lives."

They were trudging up a dilapidated staircase that seemed to be more rust than steel. Revan smiled. "You mean they will repress their feelings completely and only occasionally wonder what might have been."

Qui-Gon was about to say something, but Revan stopped him with a gesture. He was finally sensing something that wasn't guided purely by instinct. "There are sentients nearby," he said, keeping his voice low. "This deep, let's assume they aren't friendly."

They circled a massive support beam and a heap of scrap came into view. It was five hundred feet across and twenty feet high, and it had doors. Its surface was a collection of metal debris, welded together into something distantly resembling a building. Two shuttered windows faced them, and Revan could see light coming from inside. A Devaronian and a Rodian stood by the door, manning a stationary repeating blaster. Both looked thin, even the horned Devaronian—a member of a race of devil-like hulks.

Revan eyed the blaster. Those were a bitch to get through, even with a lightsaber. Individual bolts weren't too bad but bad luck could lead to another bolt hitting where a previous one burnt through the protective underlay his robes had, and he would rather not risk it. While he pondered the best approach, Qui-Gon simply stepped out of the shadows, raising his empty hands.

"Who goes there?" asked the Devaronian while the Rodian primed the blaster.

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn, with the Jedi Temple. Here to talk about a rancor."

Revan saw both aliens tense, and the Rodian began spinning his blaster around, peering into the darkness. The Rodian said, "The rancor, heh, the rancor. Where is it? Is it behind you? Are you running from it? Is it above us?"

He tried to spin the blaster upwards, but the joint wouldn't go that way, and the Rodian kept tugging at the blaster handle with weakened hands.

"Peace," said Qui-Gon. He pulled out a transparent bag with the rancor's remaining eye in it. "The rancor is dead. We just want to talk."

The Rodian's arms hung limply by his eyes. "Dead? Just like that? No! That thing: blasters can't stop it, grenades can't stop it, nothing can." He gripped the blaster handle with both hands. "I know, you are working with it! You are just softening us up!"

"Calm down," said Qui-Gon, waving his hands in a pacifying manner. "You can trust us."

Revan felt the waves of quiet radiating off the Jedi, but they were too far, and the alien was almost delirious. Revan ran forward, igniting his lightsaber.

With a small cry, the Rodian began firing.

Revan had to consciously keep himself from deflecting the bolts right back at the little bugger: he had been taught to kill everyone who shot at him, and resisting the habit was hard. He saw Qui-Gon's green lightsaber spring to life and together the two of them managed to redirect all the bolts toward the ceiling, thought one of the projectiles burnt a hole in Revan's right sleeve, singing the skin.

Meanwhile, the Devanorian grabbed the Rodian by the shoulders and tore him away from the machine. The Rodian fell to his knees and started sobbing. The Devanorian sighed. "My name Berilus Katar," he said. "My friend here has lost his wife to that animal. Show me the proof."

Qui-Gon and Revan extinguished their lightsabers but kept them out just in case. They walked up to Berilus, and Qui-Gon lifted the eye in front of the man.

They watched his expression go from disbelieving to astonished. "Damn," Berilus said. "For a month that thing had been terrorizing the grounds around here. We were getting desperate enough to throw everything we had at it. Come, Neesa will want to see you."

He placed a hand on the biometric scanner near the door, and it swooshed open without a sound. Then he picked up his Rodian friend and led them inside.

Revan recognized the place for what it was within seconds. As they walked along the hall, doors opened and curious faces picked out. The people looked hungry, and none of them looked human: there were two Gamorrians, three Rodians, even one Ithorian who looked at them with murky eyes and didn't move his head as they walked past. This was an alien refugee camp. As they got closer to the center of the city, they saw a Twi'lek woman ushering two children, one blue and one cerulean, back into their room.

Eventually, they made it to the central chamber. Stacks of boxes were piled up against the walls, and a chair and a table sat in the middle. A human girl, maybe eighteen, sat at it. She looked up when they came in.

"Berilus," she said. "Who are they and how did they get here?"

"They are Jedi. They have killed the rancor."

Revan took a moment to survey the room. The plates on the walls were tighter here, but there were no decorations and no opulence of any kind. There were, however, long gouges in the floor, and he pointed them out to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon looked disappointed, as a father gets when he opens the cupboard and finds all the sweets gone. "You held it here," he said. "Do you have any idea how foolish that is?"

Neesa jutted her chin at him. "And would you know, top-dweller, of what it takes to survive down here." She looked to the side. "And now we know we were foolish, yes."

Revan scratched the back of his head. "Look, we killed it, and now you can get out. We are looking for a way to get back up quickly. We thought you might help us out."

"Not so fast, Revan," said Qui-Gon. "These people need help. There are children down here."

Neesa laughed—a bitter sound. "What help, Jedi? We are all escaped slaves. Or indentured servants as you people call us. If we go up, we will be captured and returned to our masters. And even if you somehow get us to the top, we will soon end up back here. There is nothing for us to do on the surface."

Berilus's face turned thoughtful at the word _surface_ , and Revan wondered whether these people have all even seen a sunrise. This was what he and Tab had felt: this was what the majority of the population lived like.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant. You got that rancor to protect yourself against raiders, right? If you tell us who sold you a half-crazed monster, we'll send you more blasters and maybe a turret or two, so you can defend yourself."

Revan chuckled. "Not bad, old man. You are proving to be quite something for a Jedi." He turned to Neesa. "How do you survive down here? By raiding others?"

She shook her head. "There are only two dozen of us, so we grow our food in a hydroponic farm in this building. And we exchange vegetables and fruit for everything that we need. But we aren't fighters and we often get robbed on the way to the trade meet, and the Black Fang assault us and try to get to this room. This is why we wanted to buy extra protection. And you want to help?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "I won't pretend I can turn your lives into paradise."

###

She and Tabook ended up in the cafeteria, eating a greyish vegetable mush that Shaak had come to associate with home. She took a little for herself: while technically omnivores, Togruta were built for consuming meat, so she had a nice juicy bantha steak in front of her that had barely been cooked.

"I wonder what the kitchens are like," said Tabook. "I mean, you have all manner of races here: human, Twi'lek, Mon Calamari, your people . . ."

Shaak chewed and swallowed. She said, "There are fewer diets than races. But we mostly eat rations that can be easily tweaked. I mean, that veggie cream you are eating got injected with nutrients that are good for humans. Although humans are the most populous, so you have it easier than the rarer races. But the Temple accepts all." She tore another piece of meat off with her sharp teeth and noted how Tabook didn't flinch. Then again, he was a Force User, and they were a tougher crowd than most people. When her mouth was free, she said, "Enough games, Tabook. The Temple is one of the wonders of the galaxy, and yet you spent most of the day learning to paint. What do you hope to accomplish here?"

He picked up his cup and drank from it in long deliberate gulps. Finally Tabook said, "The building is impressive, but the people living in it are that much more interesting." He had picked up a chunk of something green and bread-like at the counter and now he bit into it and swallowed. "Friends make it easier to get by, in my experience. You seemed nice, so I figured getting to know you better would be helpful to me. And to Revan, when he drags his sorry ass back up here. He and Qui-Gon should have been back by now."

Shaak wasn't the best at sensing emotions and thoughts: her abilities were mostly connected to combat. She supposed it came from her heritage: for the Togruta, chasing prey and avoiding predators was what was needed to keep them alive. Social interactions were simple in close-knit tribes that her people had lived in for most of their history. She could tell Tabook wasn't lying, but there was something else, beyond the romantic advances.

"I don't sense the corruption of the Dark Side upon you," she said. "I'm sure the Order will be happy to take in you and your friend now that you've lost your Master. The High Council will ask questions, but they are reasonable and wise."

Tabook chuckled. "I'm sure they are. Are they also tolerant to other interpretations of Jedi teachings?" He gestured around the room. "Everyone here grew up in the Temple and was taught the same thing."

She said, "Being a Padawan is about getting personal instruction and gaining a unique perspective on the Force."

"Yes, but all of you have the same foundation. You are picked when you are teenagers, after a decade of training that is always the same. I don't have that." He scooped another spoonful of vegetable goo. "But I'm sure everything will be fine. The Force tends to help with steering me where I can be useful and being holed up in this Temple doesn't qualify."

Her datapad beeped, and she received a message. She scanned it. "Revan and Qui-Gon are back. Grandmaster Yoda requests that we go meet them."

###

As the two of them emerged from the depths of Coruscant, Qui-Gon took a breath, relaxed, and immediately felt guilty about how relieved he felt. His heart broke whenever he visited people who had to survive on scraps just because they lived on the fringes of rich worlds. Nowhere was this worse than on Coruscant where the elites of the surface barely remembered that they were just the cream floating on a vat of milk where rot had started to eat at the bottom.

The Jedi weren't supposed to get involved. Their duty was to the Force.

And yet he doubted. The Republic used them as diplomats, guards, and investigators, and often the missions Jedi got sent on had little to do with nobility of spirit or with preserving peace. If they were getting involved anyway, wasn't it better to try and help those who needed them most?

"Being useful to others feels good, doesn't it?" asked Revan.

"I have to say it does, Revan," said Qui-Gon. "I noticed you didn't say anything when I decided to help those people out. Even if our involvement probably changed something on this planet, and now some people might come to expect help of the Jedi, and this might cost them."

Revan shook his head. "Don't overthink it. Yes, good isn't universal or even easily defined, but when you see someone in pain, you help, they feel better, you feel better—end of story. Besides . . ." He grinned. "Never a bad idea to have the criminal element in your debt."

Revan was a good man, Qui-Gon decided, but there was something dangerous about how easily he gave into his impulses or how he reasoned with the morals of an idealistic five-year-old. Views like his led Padawans to the Dark Side.

They were almost up the steps when Obi-Wan rushed out the front door and ran for Qui-Gon. It looked like he was about to give him a hug but stopped five feet away and begin to play with his braid. Siri Tachi came out the doors soon after, and Qui-Gon tried to keep the frown off his face. He hadn't paid much attention to it before, or perhaps had been willfully blind, but he could see now that Revan was right. The romantic feelings between those two were stronger than he had thought. He'd have to guide Obi-Wan back to sanity before his Padawan acknowledged his emotions.

But that was for another day. For now, Qui-Gon grinned, walked up to Obi-Wan, and gave him a bear hug, laughing when his Padawan tried to free himself.

"Come on, Master, you are embarrassing me. And what happened to your arm?"

Qui-Gon let go. He said, "Well embarrassing you is the job, I think. And I thought a rancor and won. I see you are healthy."

"Told you," said Revan. He was watching the entrance.

Tabook Nashdar came with Knight Ti trailing behind him. She was smiling a little and there was a quiet happiness to her that hadn't been there before. Tabook walked up to Revan with a smile and then socked him in the stomach.

"Oof," said Revan.

"That's what you get for living me here alone. Did you think what might have happened if they had decided to get answers before you came back? Did you think what might happen if somebody—completely reasonably—decided to follow you wherever you went for you training from hell?"

Revan caught his breath, straightened his back, and laughed. "Tabook. Loosen up. And we went to the surface of Coruscant, all the way down. It is fun down there: abandoned houses and workshops, thugs and refugees, lawlessness and compassion. Made some friends too."

"Next time you tell me."

"If I feel like it."

Tabook was still frowning, but he backed off, which was just in time. Her datapad beeped.

She said, "We should go to the chambers—the High Council is waiting for us."

End of Chapter Notes

Hi everyone, and welcome to more Coruscant goodness. By the end of next chapter I hope to get Tab and Revan a ship and a crew and send them somewhere where they can start doing good. I still have some mischief for them to spread on Coruscant, so that there will be some consequences to the Order after their visit. This chapter was mostly them getting the resources to begin working on searching for a way home.

As a side-note, I've been reading up the wiki and random sites on the Internet, and can I just say how impressed I am by how huge Star Wars is? The Extended Universe has everything in it, even if you count only stuff that is canon now. Of course, I end up cherry-picking. A Temple room here, an alien race there.

Reviews and feedback is always welcome: knowing that readers care is why I write.

 _Self-plug incoming._

I also have news: this week, I published my first original novel. Beware of Light is a post-dystopian adventure sci-fi. It has combat, politics, and people trying to build a future in a world that would prefer them marching in a circle. You can find the links on my profile page (or search for it on Amazon). Just take a look inside before you decide to buy, okay? I would rather not have the money for an extra cup of coffee than have one of you upset because the novel is different in tone from my fanfiction, and you don't like the change. That said, I spent a year working on it and had some professional help, so if you like my writing, checking it out should be worth your time.

 _Self-plug ends._

A note on future updates. I currently have two active fics: Into the Maelstrom and The Broken Creed. I tried to alternate between them and publish a new chapter every week, but it has never worked. If I hurry that much, then I don't have the time to play with cool stuff, and it hurts the story. From now on, you should expect an update for each of my fics every four weeks (Into the Maelstrom—two weeks—The Broken Creed—two weeks—and so on). I wouldn't write this at all, but most of the fics I read have irregular updates, and I know I'd be happy to know when to expect a new chapter as long as the author's RL isn't killing them (which mine sometimes does).

Stay shiny and until next time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes**

Hello, everyone. Welcome to the first chapter of Into the Maelstrom in 2018. Sorry for being so late: some RL stuff got in the way, and I needed to change my routine a bit to avoid burning out. More news from my side at the end of this chapter.

For now, let's dive in.

 **Chapter 6**

All Jedi Council meeting rooms were prisons, Revan decided. The one on Dantooine had been buried in the deepest part of the Conclave, and had he tried to escape from it, he would have had to murder his way through through dozens of Jedi who didn't know better. Even a series of Force Jumps wouldn't have helped, because everyone could throw spinning lightsabers. This room on Coruscant had windows, but he doubted they would be any easier to break through than walls. It was high up too, and he was sure the Temple had anti-air defenses.

"Mister Revan, are you listening?" asked Mace Windu. He looked like a statue, solemn and a bit surprised at his own ability to speak.

Revan said. "What's the point of me listening to the report if I was there?"

"You took one of our Masters to the bowels of Coruscant, I thought you'd be paying more attention."

Revan cocked his head, chuckled, and raised an eyebrow at Windu. "I didn't _take_ anybody with me. He decided to follow me himself. You lot should be thanking me for giving Master Jinn some exercise."

He and Qui-Gon hadn't changed, and both their robes were torn in places and covered in grime. A murmur of indignation filled the chamber, but Revan didn't pay it any attention. He had already picked out the ones who mattered among the High Council: Yoda, Windu, and Jinn. Maybe Obi-Wan, if the kid gathered enough courage to speak up.

He felt a tug on his sleeve and saw Tabook giving him the look. Revan sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's been a long day, and I need to get a shower and think on how I will pay back for this robe. Why the hell does everything in the lower levels of any planet have so much slime? Kashyyk, here, Nar Shaddaa—all slime."

Yoda's laugh was half-snort and half the sound of paper rustling on the wind. He hopped out of his chair, and the room went silent. He walked to the edge of the upper circle where the Council sat in their chairs. "In physical danger, Revan, you are not. Relax you should. Tension mistrust breeds."

Revan glanced at Tab who seemed perfectly fine. What the hell? The last out-of-control Council had tried to strip Tab of his connection to the Force. Kreia had dealt with those assholes, yes, but that didn't mean they were safe now.

Tab said, "No doubt you have questions and theories. We are wasting time with all this probing. Knight Ti gave you her report as did Master Jinn. I'm sure Master Dooku did so as well, and you must have data from the healing we received."

Yoda said, "Hear I would, what your goals are. Stability a single Temple to the Order brought has, yet new teachings heard of for the longest time we have not. Perhaps, ready you are, to share how taught you were, hm?"

Revan said, "What goals? We only wish to put our training to good use. We ask, however, not to be separated. As to our story . . . as you say, the Order is rigid in its views of what is acceptable and what is not. We would rather be judged by our actions than by the teachings of our Master. She was a . . . unique Master. Sometimes I don't feel safe in one room with Tab knowing that she taught him too."

Tab nodded without smiling. He said, "We'll tell you this. Our Master believed that there is danger in depending upon the Force in everything you do: in dropping your battle instincts completely in favor of precognition, in letting visions guide you instead of common sense. A lot of our lives have been spent learning from non-Force Sensitives. Even droids."

Ki-Adi-Mundi was a Cerean Jedi who looked like he was as full of himself as his oblong cranium was of brain tissue. He raised his nose even higher and said, "What you speak is a falsehood. Once we gain access to the Force, all that remains is to abandon the ego and give ourselves to it completely. Only in such a way can we be sure that our actions are the will of the Force and not the result of our own hubris. And such attachment as between you two is unacceptable among Jedi. Keeping you together would be inviting the Dark Side."

Revan stared at him. "With all due respect—which isn't much, I admit—get the facts before attacking people. Tab and I have a Force Bond woven into our techniques and our very minds—something our Master started and that we helped improve. Separating us is out of the question."

"Study this we should," said Yoda. "Force Bonds rare are. Unique yours sounds."

Revan asked, "Doesn't such a technique go against your teachings? It does create an attachment."

"Cultivated knowledge should be, unless of the darkest places it born is. Yours is not—simply misguided it sounds." Yoda thumped his stick on the floor. "Enough. Your status within the Order decided will be. Secrets many you have and dangerous you might be. Temporarily, the rank of Padawan upon both of you bestow I. Now how to test you, hm?"

Shaak Ti shuffled forward a step and, without looking up, said, "Masters, what about Padawan Secura and her Master? They haven't been responding for a month now."

###

They were free from scrutiny for the first time since their arrival on Coruscant, and Tab wanted to plan ahead. Revan wanted to find the best watering hole in the neighborhood and add to his extensive collection of bar hopping experiences. It took them an hour of changing levels and squeezing through maintenance tunnels to lose any possible minders from the Order. Then Revan refused to talk about business in the first two bars, and now the sun was setting, there were shots of something green and glowing in front of them, and Tab felt a pleasant warmth spread from his stomach and make everything wobbly. Revan got them a table with a terminal and was trying to hit keys accurately and often failing.

Revan said "This world is stu-u-upid. Thousands of years of supposed progress, right? Kriffing pacifist Jedi, bloated Republic, shit tiny military ships, and no sign of Sith anywhere. This is the most boring future ever. Well, at least, there are thirteen thousand three hundred and two registered bars on Coruscant. In the upper five levels. In this sector. Not that it helps in any way, because we are Padawans now—don't get me started on that." He shook his head. "Don't even need IDs. A thousand planetary governments, a thousand local databases."

Tab tore his eyes away from the shot in his hand and focused on his friend. "Tatooine. That's a place I never wanted to go to again. Visas hates the place—can't walk into a bar without ten drunkards hitting on her."

Revan had used their newly determined Jedi status to get entrance to the cantina for free, and now he continued blowing through what few credits they had coaxed out of the Temple—Tab was glad he had already bought supplies for the upcoming trip. Green drinks were replaced with something black and viscous, and a red Twi'lek guy waved to them from the other side of the bar. He looked smashed. The waiter who had brought the drinks said, "Death of the King, courtesy of the gentleman waving at you."

"He bought us these?" said Revan. He toasted in the air and downed the shot. "What a joke." Tab felt a pinprick of the Breath Control, which recycled the toxins in the blood using the Force. When Revan didn't even wince, the Twi'lek shuddered and returned to his own drinking. Revan continued, "And what are you talking about? Tatooine is awesome. I mean, Krait dragons alone . . ."

Tab was now scrolling through the registry of known planets, looking for Tatooine. "Well, the planet is still the same criminal pit it was, and if two Jedi stopped reporting a month ago, chances are they are dead." He switched off the terminal.

Revan said, "There are two things we must do long-term." He looked around their little corner. "I'm sure we weren't followed . . . anyway, we need to grow the Maelstrom to return home. But the Temple here is not what we are used to: it's old, bureaucratic and inefficient, but it's also rich, large, and extremely influential. Once they realize what we are doing, we'd be dead or, worse, captured."

"We could try reforming it," suggested Tab. "Will take some time, but it should be doable."

"Well, the Grandmaster doesn't have a metal bar up his ass, so that's a path. . . But I think what we need is a ship, credits, and a couple apprentices to strike out on our own. The Order is really strict on age requirements here, and the Jedi, weirdly enough, have their hands full with policing the Republic. If we hit backwater planets where the Jedi don't go, I bet we can find more people to join us."

Tab shook his head, "Revan, my friend, we are not at full power. And even if we were, fighting a whole Order, one backed by the Republic no less, would be suicide. Last time we were in a war, it was us who had the backing of the government, and that was a large part of why we won. I do not think we can afford to make enemies of the Jedi."

Revan shrugged. "Let's head back. And do not forget that there is darkness in this galaxy. If it comes to it, we can seek it out and ally ourselves with it. I bet the Sith or whoever they are would have nothing against us taking what we need for our plans as long as it doesn't hurt theirs."

Tab grimaced. "I hope we find some other way to get out of this dimension, because so far I see only options I'd rather avoid. And I worry for what Briana and Visas and everyone else are doing while we are gone. I would have expected some sort of communication by now. I hope they are fine."

While they walked back to the Temple, Tab thought. There was a reason why Jedi so easily Fell after trying the Dark Side just once. The solutions it provided were straightforward and often easiest. He was confident they could find the source of the darkness that overflowed the emptiness between stars. And securing an alliance with the Sith was the easiest thing: it was living with himself after that and not getting stabbed in the back that was the trick.

###

The Council had left the chamber, and Qui-Gon, Windu, Dooku, and Yoda relocated to Grandmaster's rooms. Qui-Gon saw it in his old Master: something was troubling Dooku, and he had an idea what. Yoda sat on a fluffy deep-blue cushion, set aside his walking stick, and took out of a cupboard an earth-brown tea set that he began to brew tea in.

"Grandmaster," said Master Dooku, "this isn't necessary."

"Nonsense," said Yoda. "Guest you are, and this way be it should." He didn't look up from the leaves he was sorting, picking out tiny branches. Grandmaster's chambers were spacious and austere, but they were littered with ancient knick-knacks: they were on the shelves and in the corners and one the window sill. "Your thoughts, hear I will."

Qui-Gon fiddled with his thumbs for a moment—a habit he had mostly gotten rid of. "There is darkness in Revan. After travelling with him through the bottom levels of Coruscant I am sure of it."

Yoda nodded. "Smart themselves they think." He chuckled in that half-snort way of his. "Not smart enough to fool this old Jedi. Master Dooku, quiet you are."

Dooku shook his head. "I'll leave sensing of their nature to you two. Even as a Padawan, Qui-Gon was better at perceiving the imprint sentients leave in the Force than I ever will. And you, Grandmaster, are the best at it." He bowed. "I must ask, however, what evidence is there against them in their actions except the obvious mistrust of us?"

Windu said, "It doesn't matter. If they are Dark, then they need to be contained or put down. The Padawans are too vulnerable to temptation to leave them near these two."

"Old friend, calm down you should. Here, take a cup of tea. A point Master Dooku has. Darkness I sense beyond all the bravado and evasion, but also Light." He folded his spindly fingers together. "So much Light. Fierce Revan and Tab are, and loyal. A way they have of isolating the Dark from the Light, to keep from going grey."

Qui-Gon shook his head, remembering his first Padawan. "Grey Jedi are a myth, Grandmaster Yoda. Sooner or later, everyone who has turned form the Light turns to the Dark."

Yoda chuckled again. "Old by standards of your species are you, Master Jinn, and yet so young. Seen many things I have. Left alone some Jedi wished to be. Lived in peace they with no philosophy to guide them. Grey were they. But these two are different: somehow both Light and Dark they are. Learn we should how that possible is. A great darkness I sense for our Order ahead, to combat it tools need we will."

###

Mace Windu was the one to give him and Revan the mission, and the man was as dour as ever. In fact, he looked so professional at being glum and pessimistic that Tab doubted he ever smiled. Maybe when the worst of his predictions proved true. There was a hint of something not entirely Light in the Jedi, but Tab didn't pry. Whatever it was, Windu had it under control.

"You will land on Tatooine," said Windu. "Since you idiotically refuse to tell us anything about your past, I'm forced to thank you for at least telling us you've been to the planet before. Knight Ti, I know you haven't had the privilege of fighting for your life on that smuggler-infested rock, so, Master Dooku, might you be so kind to refresh everyone's memory?"

Dooku said, "The last time I went to Tatooine was thirty years ago in pursuit of a Corellian criminal gang that wanted to flee beyond the reach of the Republic with several historic artifacts of their world. We didn't get much time to see the sights, but I can tell you the Jedi aren't welcome there and neither is anyone affiliated with the Republic."

Windu nodded and leaned forward, crowding in on them. Tab and Revan had gotten new Padawan robes, and now he felt like those first days after beginning his Jedi training. Or at least Windu treated him like it, with his intense eyes and bark-like speech. "Tatooine is a cesspool of criminal activity. It is a blight upon the galaxy and a trade hub for everything starting with slaves— Padawan Revan, what are you, five to flinch like that? Slavery is outlawed in the Republic, but it shouldn't surprise you that it's often practiced on worlds outside of our control. It's why what we do is so important: it gives the Republic the resources to combat this kind of injustice."

Revan said, "Really? And how long has this been going on Tatooine, and what has the Republic done about it?"

"Tatooine is tough, Padawan." Apparently, Windu took great pleasure in calling them by their new rank. With every word, the Jedi diminished the chances of a permanent alliance between the Order and them. He could feel the indignation through his connection with Revan. Meanwhile, Windu continued, "It is ruled by Hutt criminal lords and their syndicates. It's deplorable, but a lot of Republic worlds outsource what criminal activities they need to Tatooine to keep formally from violating the law. Some of the indentured servants here on Coruscant have been kidnapped, brought to Coruscant, and trained there. Some of the drugs the destitute here consume come from there. It's unfortunate," Windu said clicking his tongue, "that we don't have the resources to reform an entire planet, but there it is. Your job is not to fix Tatooine—it's to get the pair of Jedi who went there out of whatever mess they got themselves into. Padawan Aayla Secura and Master Quinlan Vos went to Tatooine to track down the source of a stream of low-quality drugs that appeared on Coruscant half a year ago. They mimic death sticks, but in addition to the usual already unpleasant effects, the toxins in them make addiction faster, and the body overloads with toxins just after three or five uses depending on the constitution of the individual. The uses are also prone to bursts of violence. What we got here on the plane was a name: the Whistler. Before the pair disappeared, they tracked him down to a base on the planet surface. I'm giving you the coordinates right now. Any questions?"

Revan said, "Tatooine is outside the Republic, so we won't be bound by Republic law there, correct?"

Windu said, "And this is precisely why you need chaperones. I wouldn't send you two on a mission at all—I would keep you training at the Temple for five or ten years before that. Master Dooku, would you be so kind?"

Dooku said, "Jedi are viewed as champions of the Republic. If not the letter of the law, then we must at least follow the principles on which Republic was founded. Equality, freedom, opportunity, and civil liberty."

Tab saw Revan start to say something, so he cut in before his friend antagonized Windu more. "How much freedom do we have to recover Padawan Secura or Quinlan Vos or their bodies?"

Windu gestured toward Dooku. "You are to follow Master Dooku's lead. Should you be separated, find a way to contact us. Do not start anything we won't be able to take back later unless it's absolutely necessary to save fellow Jedi lives. Even then, consider that the cause we serve means that survival must sometimes take a backseat to the well-being of civilians." He deliberated a moment and added. "You two may have persuaded the High Council to try to earn your trust, but if your actions get any Jedi of this Order killed, I will come for you. Personally. Is that understood?"

The darkness that Tab sensed under a mountain of Windu's self-discipline stirred, and he knew that Windu meant what he said. He also understood that the Master wasn't truly against them going on this mission, because he was quite convinced that had Windu dug his heels in, the Council would have subdued them or at least banished them from Temple grounds. Interesting.

###

Like most things created on Coruscant, Traveler's Hope was a mix of technologies and construction styles. It was a trade vessel, between a frigate and a cruiser in size. Its hull was dirt-brown and covered in dents and scrapes. The dock it had been kept in was rather dingy in Shaak Ti's opinion, and some of the workers were so covered in dirt and oil that she had a hard time placing their species.

She had never worked with Master Dooku before, not to mention Revan and Tab, so she had brought her painting supplies with her to help keep calm during the long flight. As almost always with such things, the part of the journey that took most time was the one that took less distance. They would travel most of the way down one of the busiest hyperspace lanes in the Republic, but then they would switch to a much worse chartered and regulated route leading to the Outer Rim and would have to bring their speed down to avoid accidents.

When they got aboard, Revan's eyes lit up and all his sarcasm was gone the minute Dooku admitted that he preferred to be flown by someone else. While Shaak Ti set her things down in a cabin of her own, she saw Revan run by four times, muttering specs of the hyperdrive or the processing power of the navcomputer to himself. She shook her head. Revan was trained in the Force, and he had about seventy pounds on her, so seeing him happy like a child was weird.

She set up her easel, her brushes and paints. She had picked thick oil ones for this trip, although she normally preferred watercolors: she didn't think water shortage would be a problem for them, but water was a prized commodity on Tatooine, Master Dooku had said, and they needed to treat it with respect down there. She unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, then thought better of it and put it back. With how Tab and Revan wore their robes, and how serene they seemed at times, it was easy to forget that they weren't Temple-trained, and until she learned more, she would expect anything from them.

There was a small common area a short distance behind the bridge. A rectangular table stood in the center: it might have been polished and white at some point, but by now the plastic had worn off in places, and the surface was covered in stains. Cupboards lined the walls. Master Dooku and Revan sat at the table, deep in conversation, while Tab opened and closed the cupboards while muttering to himself.

"Canned food, dry rations, dehydrated sausage, herbs fifteen years past the expiration date . . . fine, we'll use my tea then." He moved like someone who had spent his entire life aboard starships.

Master Dooku was saying, "So we use Force techniques as a way to reward Jedi for their progress, and, in large part, they are passed down from Master to Padawan. Lightsaber combat, telekinesis, reading and influencing emotions—all of that is taught to everybody."

Revan nodded, slowly. "And I assume you don't promote experimentation with Force Powers?"

Master Dooku shook his head. "It is too dangerous for anyone except the most seasoned Masters. A Padawan would get frustrated with the almost inevitable lack of progress, and that emotion may help them push past failure. Anger becomes a crutch, and it gets easier to use with every time."

"Here you go," said Tab and gave Shaak Ti a cup of tea.

It smelled of grass and herbs and plains and prey. She said, "Thank you." and sat at the table.

Tab got the dehydrated rations and put them into the rehydration chamber.

"But what about tweaking abilities that the Jedi already have?" asked Revan.

Master Dooku said, "If you provided an example . . ."

Revan took his cup and put it before Tab. There was some silent exchange, and Tab nodded. He reached for the cup with his hand, the robe sleeve slipped back a bit, and Shaak Ti was distracted for a moment how slender his limb looked next to Revan's darker and more muscular one. Tab's muscles looked like steel cables.

"This is a trick Revan taught me," said Tab.

"But he is better at it," said Revan.

Tab's fingers tensed as if he was piercing into the body of something and twisting. She could swear she felt the Force shiver and fold upon itself. Tea splashed out of the cup, and she stood up to get a cloth to wipe the table, but the liquid didn't fall—instead it spun in a lazy circle, droplets breaking and merging into larger spheres.

"We call it Force Whirlwind," said Tab. "It's a push combined with a pull and some imagination."

Shaak Ti leaned forward: this was the first time she saw Tab use a technique. The way he controlled the Force was superb: not a single droplet fell, and she could feel the steady pressure he exerted on the Force inside a cup.

"That is interesting," said Master Dooku. "And it could be useful in some circumstances, I suppose, but the scale—"

Revan said, "It's a combat technique. The trick is balancing pushing and pulling and adjusting for the weight and shape of what you are spinning. But if you are good enough, you can lock down an enemy completely."

Shaak Ti saw it now: Tab barely spent any energy on maintaining the technique. He smiled at her, nodded, and dropped the tea back into the cup with a flick of his wrist. It settled back and in a second steam was rising from the surface as if nothing had happened.

###

A few days into their travel, Tab and Revan watched Shaak Ti practicing Ataru. Tab shook his head. "Stop, Knight Ti. It's important to practice slowly and get the form down pat, but you also need to practice putting power behind your strikes or you will be second-guessing yourself during real combat. Here, let's practice together."

She frowned but nodded, and they began bouncing around the cargo hold like two rubber balls as was customary of Ataru. Tab was weaker than her, he knew, but he coated his emotions in the Light and wielded them as a weapon: he would use a burst of fear for his loved ones to escape an attack or a flash of anger at being trapped in this universe to strike harder.

She jumped back from him. "Stop. How are you avoiding everything I throw at you? I know you are better at Makashi, but your Ataru sucks. What? It really does."

She was breathing heavily, and there was a fire in her eyes, and he smiled. He said, "Good, that's it. Desire to win is a folly, yes, but the will to get better and to learn the exact limits of what we are capable of—that's what different between us. Not everything that gets blood pumping and speeds up reflexes leads to the Dark Side. Don't let your emotions control you, but when they do flare up, don't waste your focus on suppressing them. Ride them instead."

She frowned slightly, closed her eyes, and he let her emotions flow into the Force. He sighed. She opened her eyes. "That's still bullshit. Again."

###

They came for her in the night, intruding into her sleep, depriving Aayla of her last bit of freedom. She barely slept anymore, and when she did, she was plagued by nightmares, by hands holding her, by a parasite growing inside her, by Montar the Hutt laughing, by Ti'lar whistling. To her agitated mind, the click of a button was like thunder, and she sat up the moment the force field deactivated, just a second before the lights switched on. She stood up from the bed and looked at her toes.

Ti'lar came into her cell and looked her up and down. "Still sleeping in your clothes, sugar?" He grinned, flawless teeth sharp and ready to tear into flesh. "It won't help you if Montar gives the word again." He walked up and brushed her left cheek with the fingers of his right hand, and she clenched her teeth so hard she was surprised they didn't crack. Don't look up. Don't flinch back. Reaction excites them. Stay obedient and it will soon be over. "Tsk," he said. "Boring. Come on, the boss needs you to check out the captain of a pirate crew he wants to hire for a job. He is in a good modd, so if you'll be helpful, you might get something except gruel tomorrow.

He took her by the hand and let her into the hall. His touch burned on her skin, but she stuffed fear and revulsion down. Ti'lar would be handsome to unknowing eyes: muscular, with flawless deep-red skin, genetically a perfect example of her species. But appearance was the only thing good about him and inside he was a sack of black sadistic pus, oozing onto everyone around him, soiling them, soiling her . . . When Montar ordered to break her in, and Ti'lar had been the first to obey. She barely remembered the rest of them, but him: oh, she remembered the sticky skin, the sweat, the grunting and the painting and, above all, that overwhelming feeling of helpless humiliation and terror and guilt and rage. They had injected her Master with a paralytic and made him watch, and Montar the Hutt was laughing in the background, once coming up to hold her down with his slimy hands.

They were passing the door to her Master's cell now. Ti'lar flicked the lights in the cell on, and she saw Quinlan half-sitting in his bed, slumped against the wall, his eyes open, dull, staring into the distance, half-hidden behind greasy hair. There was a bit of drool hanging from the right corner of his mouth, and she felt rage bellow up inside of her. In the beginning, she had been reciting the Jedi Code when she felt overwhelmed, but now she found it hard to believe that there was peace anywhere anymore.

There was definitely emotion though. If only she had her lightsaber.

They brought her into a chamber hidden behind one of the walls of the main room of the mansion and left her alone. Somehow they had an idea of what drugs would make a Jedi useless, they knew that they had to keep her physically fit to an extent, they knew that she could sense emotion if she focused, and they knew that Master Vos was the more dangerous of the two of them, so they pumped him full of chemicals and tortured him when she refused to follow their orders. Aayla suspected that Montar was working with someone else-a mid-level Tatooine crime boss couldn't have all this knowledge.

But she didn't worry about mysteries anymore-she just needed to live and to let crystallize that vague notion of revenge she had.

Aayla sat in a chair next to the wall and looked into the hall. Montar was lying on his pedestal, a human and a Twi'lek girl on the floor next to him were giving him morsels of food. It was a power move, she knew: Montar despised the slovenly habits of his race, and for a slug he was surprisingly fast and strong. Before Montar stood a man in his forties. His hair was dark and messy. His short sleeves left corded, scarred hands visible.

Montar said, "How confident are you that your men can keep a secret?"

The man laughed. "How confident are you that you can afford us? Me and my boys—we are the most premium, excellent, A-class pirates you will find on this rock, my good sir. You affront me with your insinuations!"

Aayla breathed in and slowly breathed out. She tried to quiet her mind, but it was like trying to hold a lid on a boiling saucepan of snakes: images kept popping out and destroying any chance of her becoming focused enough to sense the pirate captain's emotions or thoughts. She abandoned her attempts after a minute and let her hate for her captors fill her.

This is how she knew she wouldn't get pregnant. She had filled her body with self-hate and ripped apart anything in her that was not of herself. She may have damaged something else. She didn't care.

Through the prism of her emotions, she could sense other sentients around her. Oh, how the captain hated the Hutt behind those smiles! He envied the crime lord and coveted everything Montar had. He looked Montar's slaves with lust. He was greedy and conniving, but she sensed no intention to betray Montar to anybody else: if he saw the opportunity, he would take the Hutt's business and life, but that would be true of everyone on Tatooine.

She picked up a transmitter from a crate to her right, and told Montar what she felt from her target—he always wore a hidden radio. After a minute. Ti'lar came in with two more men and led her back to her cell.

As they were walking back to her cell, she sensed something shift on the horizon, in her anger-filled connection with the Force.

She knew that soon she would get a chance to release her fury.

###

Revan hated Tatooine. He had almost died on this rock a couple times, so he had a respect for the inhospitable planet, but that respect didn't prevent him from coming here as rarely as possible. He made sure that the water flask was bundled safely inside his robes and patted down his companions.

"What do you think you are doing?" asked Shaak Ti.

"Oh, in the name of the Force . . . Tab, show her how to properly secure the water flask. You do not wear it on your belt here. The planet is choke-full of urchins and pickpockets who often can't afford clean water. And hide your lightsaber, Knight—bundle it up into your robes. No need to advertise."

Shaak Ti grimaced but let Tab show her how hide the water and the weapon so it wouldn't be immediately apparent where they were.

As soon as the airlock cycled, they were hit by scalding dry air, and when the doors opened, what felt like a bucket of sand hit their faces. Revan said, "This stuff gets everywhere. Mark my words, we'll be cleaning our clothes for weeks after this is over. Damn Tatooine."

"Welcome to Tatooine, Jewel of the Outer Rim!" a light-blue Rodian dressed in a dirty-brown robe waited for them down the ramp. He was flanked by two Gamorrean guards with heavy blasters on either side. "Oh, Jedi, how rare a sight! How long will you be staying?"

Tab had been resting for a while, so he was the one to walk up to the meeting party and give them a few peggats—the largest of Tatooine gold coins. "You are incredibly welcoming, but there are no Jedi here. Just a normal group of smugglers looking for a quick buck. Could you tell us what is the best cantina to get a job in these days?"

The Force twisted, and their eyes glazed over. The Rodian nodded mechanically and directed them to Hog's Guts a couple blocks away from the port. Revan focused, blew through most of his Force reserves, and a familiar blanket of a Force misdirection technique drew over them making their group boring and commonplace.

It was funny how his mind had erased the worst thing about Tatooine from memory—the smell. Water was used all over the Galaxy to keep clean, but desert worlds had none to spare. Revan had been to many such planets, but Tatooine was by far the worst, because it was a smugglers' hub, which meant that it was populated mainly by humans. And unlike reptile sentient species like Rodians or Trandoshans, humans weren't made for this kind of climate. And the planet's unofficial capital was the worst.

Mos Espa reeked of rot and unwashed human bodies.

The sun was starting to set by the time they had landed, and this was the busiest time of day, because you could easily fry an egg on a stone at noon. Everywhere he looked he saw traders and pirates and farmers—many bore vibro-blades or small blasters openly. Thugs serving the Hutt lords of Mos Espa walked the streets in groups of four or five, looking for easy prey, and he saw plenty of shifty types operating alone.

A kid in clothes that once had been white ran out of an alley, looking frantic, and tried to run past them. He tripped, and almost barreled into Revan, but he caught the boy by the scruff of his neck.

"Not bad," he said. "But you need to keep your hands to yourself until you collide—that way you won't get noticed."

Dooku looked disinterested, but Shaak Ti drew up, "Revan, surely, this boy didn't do anything . . ."

The boy joined her, "Please, mister, I am weak from hunger and heat, let me go, I need to get back home to look after my sick mother."

He looked at Revan with such sincere eyes that Revan almost believed him. His was dirty-blond—that is, he was blond under all the dirt—and the eyes were steel-grey. He was definitely underfed, but the holes in the clothes were expertly repaired, so he did have someone looking after him. Revan probed a bit, and his mind slipped off rudimentary defenses for a moment, before he got through.

"There is no mother," said Revan. "But my Togruta friend is right: I caught you before you did something stupid. Don't they teach urchins not to mark soldiers? What's your name, kid?"

He put the boy on the ground, and the moment he let go, the boy dropped the innocent act. He looked around, making sure nobody was paying attention to where they were standing on the side of the street, folded his arms over his chest, and smirked, "You ain't no soldiers. I don't see no holsters—those robes are tight. You have stuff there, but I know a blaster or a vibro-knife when I see one even if it's hidden." He examined the dirty nails of his left hand for a few seconds. "Name's Kine, and I have places to be."

He moved to get away, but Revan reached into one of the many hidden pockets he had added to the Temple robes during the trip and pulled out a small gold coin. "I'm Revan. And there's money in it for you, kid, if you agree: we need a guide who knows the city. Two wupiupi up front, four for every day on the job, ten at the end. Lead us into a trap and I'll kill you before you can get away."

The kid was somewhere between nine and eleven years old, but when Revan could tell by the thoughtful look that those eyes have seen a lot of pain along the way. Kine said, "Eight at the end of the day."

Revan said, "Twenty at the end of the job. I know how this works, kid, this place got nothing on Nar Shaddaa, and we spent plenty of time there. Someone is looking after you, training you. You guide us, and you help us, and we might even help whatever group you are running with, who knows? And help you get a bit more standing than a common pickpocket gets."

He felt an instinctive probe at the edge of his consciousness—Nike had some talent with the Force, he confirmed—and Revan pushed honesty at him to make him sure that the money was real as was the threat.

Nike said, "They would just take all your stuff for themselves anyway." He examined their clothes. "You look clean. Not from here, I guess. Throw in a shower at your ship, and I'll help you."

"Great," Revan clapped his hands and gave the kid two thing gold coins. Wupiupi was a bit more than one credit, and it could by a couple decent meals in the less reputable areas of Tatooine. "Now lead us where smugglers trade information around here—I've heard Hog's Head is good. We need to find someone."

 **End of Chapter Notes**

The next chapter should be out in four or five weeks, so if you are not interested in my personal news and thoughts, feel free to skip what's ahead.

So, 2017 was a pretty good year for me, as in I got a lot of stuff done. I finished and released my first novel _Beware of Light_ on Amazon, helped my mom finish renovations at her new place, got a new job and learned the ropes there, lost about 25 pounds of weight—it was a pretty good year, maybe the best.

It was also one of the worst years I've ever had. I had this idea that, maybe, I would have instant amazing success after publishing my first book, which, I suppose, all beginning authors have. Anyhow, at the height of my madness, I would read like 800k words worth of books and fanfiction in a week, I would work full-time, I would write my novel, and I would publish new chapters here. I was burning myself out and by the time my book came out in November, I was screwed. My head has its quirks that I'm not comfortable talking about, but I'll just say that neglecting my social life and my mental and physical health put me into a horrible place by the end of 2017.

So, in short, that's why this chapter took so long to come out. Now that I knew that it will lightly take a couple more years before my writing takes off, I needed to take a step back and put myself back into one piece: start sleeping and talking to people again, for one. I'm mostly fine now, and I feel like I'm in a better shape writing-wise too. Sorry if this chapter seems a bit wonky to you: it was written in wonky circumstances.

If you liked the chapter, leave favorite or a review on the way out: feedback helps authors, especially on bad days.

Stay shiny, and I'll see you in a month. If you don't want to wait that long, you can always hit my profile here and check out my other work.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes

Hello, everyone. Welcome back to _Into the Maelstrom_.

As always, my life these past few months was hectic, but I finally got a break. Detailed news at the end of the chapter.

Let's jump right into more Tatooine fun.

 **Chapter 7**

When people thought of Tattoine, they thought of piss-poor families eking out their meager lives on moisture farms deep in the desert, where the only thing protecting them from raiders and Sand People was how poor they were. The planet was hot, and hot planets were rich in energy. Had Tattoine possessed significant mineral deposits, it could have been a production center in the Outer Rim. Had it enough water, it could have been an exporter of exotic foods and spices. But Tatooine's atmosphere had very little moisture to spare, and what it had never fell willingly as rain: it had to be coaxed out of the air by wasting a whole lot of power. The only reason the place had been colonized in the first place was because of ore. Sadly, shortly after mining was set up, it was discovered that the particular impurities made the ore unusable without applying a purification process that was more expensive than the minerals themselves were.

So it was no wonder that what few Republic citizens had ever heard of Tatooine imagined a boundless desert dotted with moisture farms and perhaps one sand-covered ghetto with an abandoned spaceport that the original miners had constructed thousands of years ago.

Tab hadn't learned about Tatooine in a textbook though, and he knew that the truth was much more complex than imagination.

###

"Something bothering you, Knight Ti?" asked Tab.

Shaak Ti frowned. "It is unbecoming of a Jedi to be read this easily. You make me feel . . . inadequate about my training. I can't say I like it."

They were walking on the right side of a street, letting the smugglers, thugs, slave masters, and slaves pass by them. This was the trading quarter of Mos Espa, and the night was drawing close, so at some stores owners were putting away the merchandize, but other places were opening, many of them having nothing on display: just gaping door portals leading to items and pastimes she was sure were illegal. Kine led them confidently through the labyrinth of hollering traders and keen-eyed stooping figures in rags, and Revan looked quite comfortable at his side. He had pulled out and affixed a vibroblade to his belt—something between a dagger and a shortsword, with a blackened serrated edge. He kept his hand on the hilt, and nobody eyed their group for long.

She said, "You two are even more comfortable on Tatooine than Master Dooku. Doesn't it bother you? Thieves and pickpockets everywhere, slaves in plain view, everyone bearing arms? I saw two muggings in the last hour." She squeezed her fists. "I have no idea how anyone could fix this planet."

"What makes you think Tatooine even wants to be fixed?" Tab fiddled with the short beard he had grown during their voyage. He said, "Does being here bother me? Not particularly. Revan might blow a gasket though if we don't get him somewhere indoors and away from the slaves. I'll be surprised if we manage to pull through this without him dragging us neck-deep into shit."

She said, "We shouldn't draw attention. That's what I keep telling myself."

He chuckled. "The entire point of coming to Tatooine for someone as young as you is to get drunk, wake up with people you don't know, and fight for your life—in any order. In any case, the guy we are here for sounds like bad news even for this planet. We take him out, and people can breathe a bit freer, even if he will be replaced. Or this person might be a woman. An equal opportunities world, Tatooine."

She eyed him wearily. "You are younger than me, Tab. Or at least you looked that way before the beard."

"Keeps sand away from my skin."

Kine, five steps ahead of them, said, "Could you two lovebirds shut up? Your flirting is about as subtle as a gulp of banta piss."

Shaak Ti's lekku twitched. "We aren't flirting!"

"Sure, I believe you."

Tab waved in surrender. "Sorry, Kine, I'll keep it down. It's just that I have nothing to do, and there is a beautiful woman by my side, so I went a bit overboard. I apologize."

That was it. She ground her teeth together and stepped closer to Tab to avoid making a scene. "You should be apologizing to me! I'll remind you that you are no longer on whatever rock you got your training: you are in the presence of a Knight and a Master of the Order and you will hold yourself in such regard." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and added. "And stop hitting on me! You've been doing it the whole trip."

Tab tilted his head to the right. "Fair point. Just remind me when I forget to ignore that I enjoy your company."

She felt blood rush to her cheeks. The man was insufferable, and she was sure he simply enjoyed riling her up. The Temple was full of young men and women of all races, and it had made certain aspects of growing up . . . difficult. The Force gave much, but romance and dating and various, ah, kinds of exploration were actively discouraged. She was supposed to dump all such impulses into the Force, and she had done so ever since hitting puberty. The Temple made it easy too: everyone was focused on becoming better Jedi, and they all held themselves to the same standard. Outside the Temple, the Jedi were feared as much as they were respected, and that meant that she hadn't needed to deal with romantic attention except a quickly averted glance here and there. But Tab wasn't afraid of her, and he threw compliments her way like he had been born to kiss asses and grease palms.

"Anyway," said Tab. "Where there is civilization, there are thieves and all kinds of criminals. Unhappy societies with weak governments have it much worse, and Tatooine is a depressing place ruled by crooks who don't care only about raking in money. But we can use the underground if we are smart enough to keep from getting robbed blind."

A shop on their right had a woman sitting in front of it. It was protected from the elements by a leather awning and her skin looked as weathered as the ancient skin. Her white rheumy eyes stared straight ahead, and she rolled a single wupiupi coin over the gnarly knuckles of her right hand. The tiny gold coin looked like it had barely any mass left from the constant wear—just a piece of foil, polished to a mirror shine.

Kine approached her, and Shaak Ti couldn't see from behind, but his arms moved in some pattern. "Auntie Buba," he said, "How are you this fine evening?"

Her voice was like crumbling bones scraping on sandpaper. "My ass is covered in bruises from this fucking stool, and stupid kids keep bothering me, trying to get in where they shouldn't poke their nose into. I'm not letting you in again: the Ear will have my head. In fact, after the stupid shit pulled last time, I'm surprised you are still alive. Get lost, Kine, before I get Grawk to encourage you."

A hulking Gamorrean stepped out of the door portal, a hand on a bantha prodding stick affixed to his belt. "Kine," he said.

The kid raised his hands and a disarming smile. "Now, Auntie Buba, that whole thing has blown over. I gave it back, with extra, and Ear has forgiven me, hasn't she?"

She barked a laugh. "Ha! She didn't want to have whelp blood on her hands. Don't mistake it for forgiveness. Grawk—"

"I bring business," said Kine. "They are willing to pay for information and kill if they are double-crossed." He jabbed a thumb at their group. Everyone nodded, except for Revan who gave the old woman a wave and a wink.

The woman looked them over, and Shaak Ti got that tingle in the neck that told her somebody was about to play them. The partial blindness had to be fake.

"Pfft. Look like a bunch of bath-takers to me. Your fancy knife ever saw a fight, boy?"

Tab took a purse out of his robes, jingled the coins and threw it toward the woman. She and the Gamorrean naturally followed it with their eyes, and in that moment Tab and Revan moved. In half a second, both had their vibroblades out. Tab was behind the woman, with a knife at her throat, and Revan was next to the Gamorrean, holding his weapon to the chest. Tab had also caught the purse.

"Insult us," said Revan in a cheerful voice, "And we will gut your entire fucking establishment. And don't mind the robes: they work in certain circles and don't—in others. We were thinking that for your circles, plasma grenades might be better." He reached into his robe with his free hand and took a red sphere. When had he—

Revan stepped away from the Gamorrean, and Tab left the woman alone. "But it doesn't have to be that way. We are prepared to spend money here, as long as there is no funny business, and then we'll leave in peace."

Dooku had moved closer to her. He bent his head, pretending to look at his shoes and whispered, "Observe but don't interfere."

Buba stared at Revan for a few moments, then her face split into a smile, and there was that bark of laughter again. "Ha! You sound like you are our kind of people, even if you wear this pacifist crap. Come on in."

Revan asked, "What, you aren't going to ask us to leave our weapons at the door?"

"Now that would be an insult, wouldn't it? And you bastards are fast. I will ask you not to raise too much of a ruckus, or the boys inside will put you down, fancy tricks or no. Now, what are you waiting for? Stop loitering. Kine, take this sorry bunch indoors. They irritate my old eyes: far too clean."

The Gamorrean stepped aside, and they went through the door, turned left, and entered a plain grey hall ten feet wide. Shaak Ti had to squint when two lamps hit her eyes and illuminated all of them. It took her a while to see that at the end there was a mounted heavy blaster manned by a Rodian with a blob of burn scar tissue under his right eye. There were no lights on his side—the hallway was a kill zone.

They went through the door at the end of the hall, and acrid fumes hit Shaak Ti's nose. It felt like breathing in hot sand, and she began to cough, trying to keep dignified posture and failing. Instead of the uniform grey of the hallway, this room was all metal painted in dark-blue and violet. Pillows stuffed with something lumpy were thrown around a dozen metal tables, and twenty or so patrons lounged around them, playing cards or smoking thin yellowish sticks and staring into space. Master Dooku wrinkled his nose. "Dontworry," he said.

"Bless you," said Tab.

Master Dooku explained, "It's a drug: has a proper name, but I doubt any of these people know it. It regresses cognition to that of a ten-year-old, so that is full of wonder. Try not to breathe in too deep." He stopped talking, and Shaak Ti noticed that the Master's chest was barely moving when he didn't talk.

Her throat was still burning, and she felt something start to slip into her mind, crawling past her barriers and inhibitions. She put the left sleeve of her robe in front of her mouth, but it didn't help much.

"Hey, lady, you can just crouch: there is none of this stuff at my height," said Kine, grinning.

Tab laid a hand on her shoulder, and she felt his power suffuse itself with her body, asking for access. Maybe it was that she had started to trust Tab, or maybe he simply caught her off-guard, but she let him do whatever he was doing, and warmth flooded her chest, quickly spreading to fingers and toes. It became easier to breathe, and the fog in her mind cleared. When she raised an eyebrow and looked at him, Tab just shrugged. He said, "I told you I was passable at healing, didn't I? Let's find somewhere to sit, so your head doesn't get cloudy again."

Now that she could think properly again, Shaak Ti noticed that the three other Jedi were working some sort of technique, cycling energy through their bodies. This must have been what allowed them to need very little breathing. She could understand how Master Dooku could do this, but how many techniques did Revan and Tab know?

She kept gathering crumbs of data about them: conversation slips, demonstrations of Force Techniques, spars on the ship. She blocked out most of it, afraid to put together everything she had on them: she was sure that if she watched and listened a little while longer, all the jagged pieces would arrange themselves into a clear picture without mental effort or prying deeper than Tab and Revan allowed. But it made no sense, she knew, none at all. Something was missing. They flowed through the underbelly of Tatooine easily, as only people who have spent much time among irreputable companions do. They seemed to have an elbow-deep bag of Force tricks, and whatever was thrown at them, Tab or Revan could rummage in the bag and pull a key for that particular lock. And yet her instincts were telling her that they were hiding something too big to even contemplate. Some great shadow loomed behind them, and from the distance she was at she could hardly make it out: like staring at a cruiser's ramp with a microscope and trying to deduce the make of the ship.

Revan and Tab walked up to the bar and slid onto adjacent stools in one synchronized movement. The bartender was a young woman, no more than thirty, but the only hair she had was a white lock on the top of her shaved head, weaving to the back and tied into a knot that Shaak Ti could see when she moved.

"What can I get you, gents? And lady."

If she saw the robes, she made no comment about them.

"Two shots of Syrian Panther Sweat for me and my friend over here," said Tab and stared questioningly at her and Master Dooku.

Master Dooku chuckled. "Ah, I wonder what would be . . . hm . . . appropriate."

The bartender said, "Considering what your friends are ordering? Nothing less than an Emerald Kingdom would do."

"Isn't that poisonous to humans?"

"Only when fools try to make it before they are ready. It's a very advanced drink. But Syrian Panther Sweat is worse: it's supposed to leave your head echoing for half an hour. You gents sure?" Tab and Revan nodded, and the bartender shook his head. "And you, gal? What would you like?"

"A glass of water, please."

"Water. You are serious." She looked her over, turned to Tab and Revan and grinned. "Gents, I think this girl wants to get you drunk."

Her hands moved under the bar and he started pulling bottles out. For Shaak Ti, she poured a glass of water and slid it to her. For Master Dooku, she took out a dark-green crystal and a bottle of what smelled like pure alcohol. She threw the crystal into a glass, added a finger of alcohol and swirled it, waiting until the crystal dissolved, hitting Shaak Ti's nose with the smell of herbs and reminding her of her home planet. The bartender then added a finger of water, took a purple leathery fruit from under the counter, sliced it open and squeezed some juice into the glass. He slid it in front of Master Dooku.

She then pulled out a tiny bottle—no more than a few ounces—with double glass walls with a fine mesh of steel suspended in the glass. The liquid that was inside was black and viscous. She took out two shot glasses and a sheet of something white and slick. She tore off a small patch and wiped the inside of both glasses, making them gleam. Seeing Shaak Ti's inquisitive glance, she said, "To keep the glasses from melting." She then took out two durasteel sheets and laid them near the glasses. She took the bottle, leaned back as far as possible from it, then opened it, splashed two fingers into each of the glasses, capped the bottle, and slammed the durasteel over the glasses. The drink was exposed to air for two seconds, but it was enough to release tendrils of grey smoke into the air. The smell was of musk and burning hair and mint. It was enough to make her eyes water.

Revan nodded and took his glass as did Tab. "To the success of our venture. May assholes get their due, and may we all come home whole." They clinked the covered glasses, and Master Dooku joined them. After a moment of hesitation, she did so too. Tab and Revan tilted their heads up and clamped their free left hands on their noses. They let the covers slid to the floor by shaking the glasses a bit, and before a single tendril could escape, they tossed back the drinks. She didn't even see them gulp: it seemed to go straight down the esophagus.

"Oh," said Revan leaning back. "How I have missed you, Syrian Panther Sweat. A drink after my own soul. Appreciate the quality, man. This is great, right, Tab?"

"Like a stream of molten lava burning me from the inside. Perfect."

Revan offered a fist bump to the bartender, and the woman hesitated a second before accepting it and saying, "Damn. I thought you'd hit the floor the moment it hit your stomach. Name's Ear. What can I do for you, gents?" He then turned to Kine who he'd been ignoring. "And don't think you're off the hook, pipsqueak, just because you bring a couple of blokes who can actually drink. And are those Jedi robes? Well, I'll give you that, you are subtler than the last pair. Bloody dimwits."

"Now, that's interesting," said Tab. "Get us all water, please. The burning is getting less pleasant."

"Like pompous toddlers they were—adorable." She poured Tab, Revan, and Master Dooku a glass of water. "Used their mumbo-jumbo to mess with Buba's head outside, so I had to stop old Trangvar from punching them full of holes with the blaster. I'd be surprised if they survived two days after leaving here—didn't look like they had the oomph to back up the cocky attitude. And the girl's ass when she wasn't looking—real smooth."

Shaak Ti didn't like how ершы sounded. Aayla was a good friend, but she was impulsive and far too bubbly for a Jedi. Master Vos was also a problem: he let emotion blind him too often. She'd heard whispers in the Temple of him being interested in his Padawan in _that_ way, but she dismissed them. Ear though had no reason to lie about this, and if Master Vos was distracted and Aayla was her usual self . . . She didn't like their chances against a criminal overlord.

"What were they here for?" she asked.

"Toots, I ain't dumb enough to give you info before I see the peggats." She made a 'give me' gesture with his right hand. "How much are they worth to you, I wonder. A right dangerous place they wanted to go to."

A patron rose from a table to their right and back and walked out swaying from side to side. Tab glanced at Revan and made a quick series of gestures. Revan nodded, got up, and went after the man.

Tab crossed his fingers and laid his chin on them. "Well, it depends. We are looking for the Whisperer. You could give us a name. You could give us a location. You could tell us of the safest way to get in. And we could recommend your . . . establishment to whatever Jedi may be coming to Tatooine later. They'll probably be dumber than us and inclined to leave more money here. There is always something happening on Tatooine, so having an information broker to go to could be beneficial for both of us. What do you say? Want a more permanent arrangement?"

Tab had only one hand on the bar, and the bartender had both of hers below it. Shaak Ti could feel the tension in the pub. Some of the patrons suddenly seemed more alert. Revan was still gone, and Tab was staring at Ear without blinking, a slight smile on his lips.

Ear drummed on the bar a few times. "What're you going to do to the Whisperer, I wonder."

Tab's smile grew wider. "By the time we are done with him, he won't be a problem for anyone anymore."

"I have people ready to open fire on you. I suggest you put both hands on the bar."

Tab didn't. He said, "And I have a lightsaber ready to ignite and pointed at your abdomen. Any of your people do anything, and I'll burn through your intestines or maybe liver. Dying won't be pleasant." He leaned forward. "Here are your choices. Try this half-cocked ambush. Maybe get one of us but definitely die. Try to feed me bullshit and see first-hand just how good the Jedi are at seeing through it. And die. Or tell me what I fucking need to know and get enough gold to tear through your pockets when you go home tonight."

Strangely enough, she couldn't feel him using the Force to help him convince Ear. A mild suggestion would have surely tipped the scales, and they wouldn't be risking a bloodbath.

After ten more seconds, Ear relaxed and gestured with his visible hand. The patrons that had been roused went back to staring into space. She said, "You want to take down a criminal lord of Mos Espa. I'm not sure you carry enough cash for the information you'll need."

Tab said, "And I'm sure you have people interested in his slice of business, and if we can give you a sign that he's gone, you will be able to sell that information to one of the other authorities here for tons of cash."

Ear scratched her chin. "That's true, I suppose. But I'll still need, ehm, a deposit. To prove your good intentions, sweetcheeks."

Tab nodded, reached inside his robes and began pulling out small bags of coin. "Twenty peggats each," he explained. "Ten for you."

"What about the kid?" asked Ear.

"Screw the kid," said Tab with an easy smile. "We have what we came for."

Kine looked like he had been smacked, and Shaak Ti wanted to protest, but Tab gave her a hard enough glare to make her shut up. This was his world, she realized: negotiations at gunpoint.

Ten minutes later they walked out of the establishment. Kine was stomping after them, and after they rounded the corner, Tab turned to him and crouched down as if to fix the kid's clothes. She didn't see anything, but there was a jingle of coins.

"Here you go," said Tab. "Split it and hide it in a dozen disgusting places. Be smart about the money, and you'll go far."

"But— this is more—"

"Well, you did help us get the info on the cheap side, so it's only fair you get some reward. And you still need to help us get closer to the palace. Then you'll be free, and we'll be kicking Hutt's ass. Which is mostly what Hutts are made from."

Kine giggled.

###

"You will only get in the way," said Tab while hiding grenades inside his robe. He tossed a plasma grenade to Revan.

They had gone back to Traveler's Hope, Kine got his shower and left. It was now up to the boy to protect the money, but Tab had faith in the kid. He was smart and had some ability with the Force even if not much. He'd be fine. Or at least this was what he had to think to focus on the mission.

Shaak Ti said, "We can't let you two go in alone. A pair of experienced Jedi would be in a tight spot trying to infiltrate a criminal stronghold, and we don't know anything about you. Master Dooku, back me up."

Dooku rubbed the tip of his pointed beard and said, "Perhaps me and Knight Ti could cause a distraction?"

"Master!"

"No, Knight Ti. You haven't seen them fight and I have. I suspect our friends have even more tricks, but they wouldn't be willing to reveal those if we are with them. I would rather see Aayla Secura and Quinlan Vos back with us, safe and sound, than try to force knowledge out of our allies."

Tab glanced at Revan, and his friend nodded. Tab shook his head. "What I'm afraid of is that you two will raise a general alarm, pulling all of Montar's forces to us. Then we'd be screwed."

Dooku laughed. "Tabook. Please. I've been joining diplomacy missions since I could barely string two words together. Add the Force, and I'm sure we could right walk in. After all, what would you expect two Jedi to do in this situation?"

Tab thought about it while cleaning a blaster and holstering it. They had done some shopping at the night market, and while the arsenal they had now was ramshackle, it was functional. Except for a third of explosives Revan had thrown out fearing they would blow up in their hands.

"You want to secure an audience with Montar," he said.

Dooku nodded. "We will offer a significant amount of credits to get our Padawan Secura and Master Vox back. I will claim they acted on their own, and that the Order has no reason to interfere with his business. After all, what he is doing is perfectly legal on Tatooine."

Tab nodded. "He won't buy it, of course. But maybe you can intrigue him enough that he doesn't have both of you shot on sight."

Dooku smiled and tutted. "Oh ye of no faith. Believe a little bit in us and the Force."

Tab considered Dooku's offer. It could help him and Revan if some of the Hutt's forces were pulled to watch the Jedi. Dooku had a reputation, Tab knew, and his arrival would surely be seen as something dangerous. He just didn't want to get prospective apprentices killed. Plus, Dooku was one of the less stubborn Jedi he had met, and Shaak Ti had potential, especially if she ever got past the Temple dogma. It would be a shame to lose them.

"Tab," said Revan, "stop your mother-hen act. They are grown-ass Jedi, let them live a little."

Shaak Ti scrunched up her nose. "Why are we even asking you? Master Dooku should be the one planning this."

Dooku smiled. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just laissez faire about it."

Tab hid fastened a vibroknife above his left ankle. He turned to Revan. "How do I look?"

"Like you are an idiot with no weapons waiting to get robbed."

"Right. I'll put the blaster on the outside. What the hell is this model? They didn't even put proper thermal isolation between the power cell and the plasma chamber. It's like that shopkeeper wanted us to die."

Revan grinned. "I'm sure it had nothing with Shaak Ti here lecturing him on the immoral nature of his goods."

"Okay," said Tab. "We are going. I'm trusting you to do your thing, Master Dooku, and not get killed, and you should trust us two to do the same."

Dooku nodded. "Fighting in close quarters against superior numbers will be difficult. I suggest you stick to Makashi with bursts of Ataru."

Tab felt the corners of his mouth drift up as his fingers brushed against one of the many bulges under his robes. "I like another tactic. We get in and we blow them up."

###

Montar's stronghold was a white spire jutting out of the reddish dust clouds that covered the streets of Mos Espa. It was on the western side of the city, past the bazaar and the slave markets which were thankfully closed for the night. Revan might have become a problem otherwise. Their group crept along the streets, closer to the fortress, while Tab hid everyone from the attention of bands of thugs that roved the streets. As they got closer to their destination, half-drunk clumps of two to ten became squads of three wearing similar clothing. The sentries were disciplined, but it only took a couple nudges with the Force to make them check out an empty corner while Tab slipped past with everyone else in tow.

###

Dooku and Shaak Ti split off, and Revan and Tab headed to the back of the building.

"This stronghold," said Revan. "It's new."

The building was surrounded by twenty feet of open space on all sides: like other Hutts, Montar appeared to be paranoid. Then again, everyone really was out to get a criminal lord, so maybe it was just caution. Now that Revan had pointed it out, Tab peered at the walls across the space they were circling. Most buildings in Mos Espa were smooth: hard edges didn't survive the endless grating of sand for long. The desert polished and slowly eroded everything, and a building's age showed in its lines. Montar's stronghold was pale yellow with streaks of red, and its walls met at right angles with sharp edges. There were two floors: the second smaller than the first, and black automatic turrets dotted the terrace above the first one. Thugs patrolled the perimeter in groups of four.

"Do you see any openings?" asked Tab.

Revan shook his head. "This place is locked up tight." There was admiration in his voice. "It's fairly well protected against a Jedi infiltration too. Wish we had our team."

Tab nodded. It's been some time since he needed to plan a stealth mission. With Briana and Atton backing him up, he could usually slice right through whatever compound he needed to get into, and if they were about to get overwhelmed, there were always Force Storms to take care of that. He flexed his fingers, feeling the Force sluggishly respond to his prodding. The tentative bonds they had developed with Dooku, Shaak Ti, and Qui Gon were there, but they weren't enough to get him anywhere near his full power.

"We'll need to move fast," he said. "I see mines, patrols, blaster turrets, and what looks like a grenade launcher. Think I got everything?"

Revan squinted and looked the building over. At least there were enough lights around it to make its outline as clear as if it was noon. "I can't see well from here. But those four towers at the corners of the second floor? They might have snipers."

"Damn it. We should have posed as food delivery or something. Dooku and Shaak Ti will be drowning in shit as soon as we start." He frowned and spread his hands, palms up, letting the Force wash over them. "Well, nothing for it now. Let's get in."

Tab didn't have his offensive capabilities back yet: a proper Force Storm would eat through most of his reserves. Yet before he became a one-man artillery battery, he had been a specialist in support and incapacitation. He folded power around him and Revan, molding it into an ovoid and creating a cushion that would dampen anything coming at them, be it energy-based or concussive. He then focused on a technique he was most proud of: Jedi Master's Speed. He finally had enough to maintain it along with basic protection, and it would have to do.

The world slowed down. He could see individual grains of sand drift in front of the lights. They were across the empty space and there was a blast door, leading deeper into the building. He could see windows on the second floor, behind the turrets.

Tab felt a wave of Force from Revan as his friend flooded his system with power, pushing himself beyond human capabilities.

"Let's try to pull at least some of the heat from Dooku once we get in."

Tab approached Revan from behind and jumped on his friend's back. For a moment they looked ridiculous, until Revan activated the prototype stealth generator they had built during the trip. Light bent around them, and the pair vanished from everyone's view.

"Here goes nothing," said Revan and leaped.

While Tab could use too many Force Powers to count, Revan specialized in the few that were most useful in close combat. But when he specialized, he really gave it his all. Even with Tab on his back, he made a magnificent arc through the air, above the kill zone surrounding the building, and over and behind the turrets. They landed heavily on the balcony on in front of the second floor, and Tab jumped off, slapping a demolition charge on a window.

Everything was silent for a moment, and then all the turrets swung toward their invisible forms.

"I never was good at stealth," said Revan.

The field failed, and twin dark-gold blades ignited. The turrets fired with loud thuds. Revan knocked a few crimson bolts out of the air, but there were too many, and he and Tab were forced to roll away. The demolition charge chose this moment to explode, the shockwave breaking reinforced glass. A cloud of debris and dust went into air, and the turrets paused for a moment, their programming adjusting to poor visibility. Tab crouched and dashed through the opening, igniting his lightsaber on the way.

He ended up in an apartment, empty except for two half-naked Twi'lek girls, tied to racks on one of the walls and staring into space. The place war rather Spartan for a Hutt, Tab thought: the walls were bare grey, light came from simple projectors. There was an autopsy table in the middle of the room which looked like it had been taken straight from a Coruscant morgue. There was also a counter with gleaming, polished, expensive instruments of pain. He heard Revan growl. He was staring at the girls, more specifically at scabbed over scars on their stomachs and all over their bodies.

There was only one door out of the room. Tab tossed a grenade at it at the same time as it opened, and the concussion charge flew into the middle of a dozen mercenaries that were about to pour in.

Even thirty feet away, the shockwave nearly took him off his feet and the explosion was like putting his head into a metal barrel along with an ignited firework. He had to blink to clear his head, but the thugs had it much worse: they were holding their ears, blood pouring out. Seven humans and one Gamorrean.

Beside him, Revan stepped forward sporting a grin that didn't promise anything good. His eyes blazed with orange. He pointed with his free hand, and even through the ringing in his head Tab heard the command.

"Break."

The hurricane of Light Revan kept around his presence wavered and split, and a torrent of Darkness pulled forward. The kind of desire that made men rape others in prison, the kind of jealousy that made them kill family, the kind of fear that made them shit themselves before having their hearts burst from shock. It went by him and slammed into the thugs. Revan swayed on his feet, and Tab had to step to him to support him. "You shouldn't have done that," he said. "We need you at full power."

One man in front of them was staring at his hands, looking at the blaster in his right one, as if wondering how it had gotten there. He looked up at Revan, one of his eyes bloodshot, and giggled once, twice, then broke into hysterical laughter and pointed the blaster at the man next to him, starting to fire and laughing harder when the bolt burned through the man's forehead and exited through the back of his head along with a smattering of boiling brains. The shooter now had tears streaming down his face and turned to another of his comrades, but that one wasn't about to go down easily. He already had a vibroblade out. "Tilar," he was saying, "Tilar, what's wrong with you?! Guys, restrain him! Guys?"

He was the only one who had managed to shrug off Revan's attack. Everybody else had gotten their weapons out and directed them at others.

Revan and Tab didn't wait for the end. They ran past the group and headed down.

###

Aayla felt it pulse above her. The wave of Darkness made her quiver. It was nothing like what she could have summoned herself: it was directed, vicious, powerful, invigorating. It called to her. Lying on her cot, she reached out to the source almost absent-mindedly, like to an old friend Bonded to her through the Force.

There was a feeling of surprise. And then a probe. Curiosity. She felt rage behind it.

Someone had come to her. Come to take her away. To stop her from getting her revenge. She gritted her teeth.

Denial. Anger at those who would take freedom from others.

Oh yes, she saw. No Jedi would feel this way. And there were Jedi in the building too, she sensed. They would try to rescue her. They would spout on and on about peace and forgiveness. She would forgive Montar's men after they lay gutted at her feet.

Hurry, she pleaded with the presence. Get here before them. Set me free. Sic me on Montar.

There was a rush of air, and an indistinct blur shot past the forcefield in front of her cell. A startled yelp was followed by the sound of a body sliding down a wall.

"Tab, get her out of here. We don't have time to hack our way through."

A man stepped in front of the forcefield. He wasn't the one who had called out to her, but he felt similar. He too was excited, and she felt the joy of battle resonate from him. He raised a hand to the forcefield and frowned. The Force pulsed once, not Light and not Dark, merely inquisitive. It seemed to find what it was looking for, because the man smiled, ignited his double-sided lightsaber and stepped to the side, thrusting it into the wall. The field died.

Another human stepped in front of the wall. Huge and dark and dangerous. He looked at her steadily, and in his eyes red and blue swirled. He tossed her a cylinder.

She caught it. It was clunky, but yes, there was the familiar button. She pressed it and the blade blossomed in front of her face.

"Green?" she asked.

The man grinned, cocky as they come. "I would have brought red but didn't think the Temple would appreciate the symbolism. Now, are you gonna sit on your bed, or are we going to murder our way to our allies?"

 **End of Chapter Notes**

This chapter was so much fun to write: I'm finally getting the feel for what Tab and Revan are like and what their friendship is like and where it will all go. But no doubt I got the timeline wrong, and the characters are not like their canon counterparts, so I'd like to remind you that this story is only loosely canon compliant. I love Star Wars to bits, but not enough to dig through every bloody source, so don't expect me to know ship class designations and when Dooku had sex the first time. This is a story where we have fun with characters and throw some OP elements into the movie universe to let chaos engulf it.

Also, you can buy a glass of water on Tatooine (I'm mentioning it, because this came up in a review). People still drink, It's just that water comes from moisture farms and makes up a major part of most people's budget.

Now that the disclaimer is over, on to some updates.

I dropped the price on my original novel _Beware of Light_ as far as the kindly gods of Amazon jungle would let me, so if you want to check out more of my writing (and with proper worldbuilding this time) you know where to go. The exact map is in my profile. Overall, I'm working more seriously on making writing my career now, but so far it hasn't interfered much with my creating fanfiction—RL madness usually does that.

In other news, I've beaten _Persona 5_ , and I know that I'm way too late to the party, but I can't recommend that game enough. It's perfect is what it is. Wacky, charming characters, solid plot, cool concept, great soundtrack, fun gameplay with only a couple hours of grinding but still punishing when you make mistakes. If you can afford the bloody thing (why are console games this expensive?), then it's probably one of the best RPGs to pick up.

Let's see. Books. _Lies of Locke_ Lamora is the perfect fantasy novel. It's like Game of Thrones for me, only set in one city and I care about all the characters and not just Arya and Tyrion.

 **Review replies:**

 **Vangran**

Thank you for pointing out that embarrassing typo. Tatooine's proper name has been restored.

 **shydes528**

Hope you liked that glimpse of Darth Revan that I showed.

 **Phoenix Invictus**

Thank you for the recommendation. I might take you up on the offer, or I might keep my headcanon intact. About the romantic tension. In The Old Republic Revan says that to him Meetra was something more than just the Exile and does so in a very suggestive tone. Because of that phrase, I thought the developers hinted at a relationship that wasn't completely platonic. In any case, it doesn't matter. Thanks for liking the story, and I'll be interested in hearing your opinion on what's to come.

###

There is another batch of RL crap heading my way, but hopefully it won't impact the release of next chapter too much.

Until then, stay shiny.


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